


Boon

by RebelRebel



Category: Logan Lucky (2017), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Politics, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Fusion, American Politics, Comedy, Domestic Fluff, Enthusiastic Consent, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fake Dating, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Heist, Heist fic, Logan Lucky crossover, Mention of Pregnancy (Side Character), No one likes Hilary Swank, Ocean's movie vibes I hope, Politics, Pre-Heist, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Smut, Star Wars crossover, basically Reylo, fake dating au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2019-08-01 18:05:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16289306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebelRebel/pseuds/RebelRebel
Summary: Three text messages changed Clyde Logan's life forever.Are you being harassed by a federal agent?Does she have brown hair, horse teeth, and a stick up her ass?Leave now, Clyde.Okay, maybe four.The Resistance is on your side.





	1. Sprint Sucks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [midnightbluefox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightbluefox/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't plan on writing a Reylogan, but my TWD BFF Midnightbluefox and I were talking about what ideas we had for Reylogan fics, and then this baby sprang into my head. This fic is forever dedicated to her. Thank you, girl!

 

Clyde Logan _hated_ his phone. 

For one thing, he was clumsy with it. He'd gotten the biggest, fanciest phone he could, but with a robot hand on one side and fat thumbs on the other, it didn't matter — he was always pressing the wrong buttons.

For another thing, he got more texts from his cell phone company than people. And always when he was working.

 

**_739-56_ **  
_Hi, this is Sprint. We'll text you three questions about your experience (all texts free). We value your feedback and may follow up with a call. Type YES to continue with the survey._

 

Clyde grunted, trying to swipe to delete — it was the third one today — but managed to drop the phone instead.

On the other side of Duck Tape's bar, Jimmy Logan chuckled. Eyes alight with amusement, he tipped his beer to his lips for a generous swig.

"You think you'd be used to that new hand by now."

Clyde shot his brother a look that was all bark and no bite. He huffed, then bent over to scoop it up with his good hand, setting it atop the bar.

"I am used to it. The screen won't work with my hand."

Jimmy considered that, then smiled. 

“Well then, the phone hasn’t caught up to you yet.”

Clyde didn't smile back, but he did get his brother another beer.

"How's Sadie doin'?" 

"Growin' like a weed," said Jimmy. He sighed, looking past Clyde — as if his little girl was sitting on the other side of the bar, gangly and grown up. "She's gonna be tall as you, mark my words."

"She still actin' up whenever Sylvie comes around?" 

Jimmy paused to take another sip of his beer. His silence said yes, but he still answered with a shrug.

"Not as much." 

Clyde nodded, settling both hands on the polished bar. Dark eyes drifted to the one on the left, till he forced his gaze back to Jimmy.

"She'll come 'round," he murmured. Jimmy nodded, still staring at his beer as if it might tell him how to handle all the women in his life.   

Clyde thought that was a good problem to have, but what did he know?

"How's Sylvie, then?" Clyde asked, trying to shake Jimmy from his reverie.

The question did the trick. A shy smile lit up his brother's face.

"She's good," he started. He took another drink. "Settlin' in fine. Likes the new house. She's gonna paint."

The side of Clyde's mouth quirked up in amusement.

"Didn't know she was a painter — "

"Not paint like a painter, but paint the living room or somethin' — "

He was cut off by the blare of a Blake Shelton song from his phone. Clyde winced at the assault on his ears.

"Speak of the devil," said Jimmy. He pulled the phone out of his pocket, swiped to accept the call, then raised it to his head.

"Your ears must've been burnin', darlin', 'cause — "

Abruptly, Jimmy stopped talking.

_Too abruptly_ , noted Clyde. His brother's face pulled in tight; thin-lipped and ashen all over. 

"Yeah, baby. No, no. That was the right thing to do," Jimmy said. The tone of his voice was enough to drop an anchor in Clyde's gut. 

Jimmy gulped, then hung up the phone, clenching it tight in his palm. Again, he stared off into space, though this time was stony rather than wistful. 

Clyde glanced around the bar. Being a Thursday night, there were only a handful of people; all regulars, and all people who knew to mind their own business.

There wasn’t anyone around to listen in. 

“What is it?” Clyde asked. He was still careful to keep his voice low.

Jimmy met Clyde’s eyes.

“Sylvie saw an official lookin’ lady sniffin’ around the old trailer.”

Surprise bent Clyde’s brow.

“Official-lookin’?”

Jimmy contemplated his beer before nodding slowly, shadows playing across his face. 

“Middle-aged, brown hair. Wearin’ a suit and drivin’ a fancy black SUV.”

Before Clyde could think to respond, his phone buzzed on top of the bar. He and Jimmy both looked over at it; the notification splashed across the screen, short enough to see the whole message. 

It was another text, but this time, it wasn’t from his cell phone company. It was from a strange number neither of them recognized. 

 

_**804-818-2017**  
Boone-Madison Public Library, tomorrow at noon._

 

\--

 

They debated going, but the next day, Jimmy and Clyde pulled up to the library together at exactly 11:55 AM. 

Clyde hadn't received any more messages from the unknown number — just another slew of texts from Sprint asking him to take their survey.

He was wary of turning off his phone in case he got another text from the unknown number, so instead, he just ignored everything he got from 739-56.

Jimmy didn't know the library as well as Clyde, who'd frequented the place since childhood. The librarian, Ms. Holdo, was like an aunt to him. As soon as he lumbered through the front doors, she glided over to them, wearing a frown where a smile should've been.

"Clyde," she said, her West Coast whisper soft and soothing, "A woman who says she knows you came in a little while ago. She looked like — "

"Where?" asked Jimmy. In the quiet, his voice carried a little too much. 

One of the reasons Clyde took to Ms. Holdo as a kid was how gentle she was — with books, with people, with _him_. She'd come to Boone County for god knows what reason, no family, no relations, and did her best to make sure any kid she came across got a good book to read, especially when times were tough. He admired that — it was a quiet sort of strength that people often mistook for weakness, even his brother. 

But he saw it in her eyes the second Jimmy cut her off: a sparkling blue hardening into steel. It was the same look she gave to people who mishandled any of the library books.

"By the classics," she answered, raising a brow at Jimmy's rudeness. Clyde shot him a look, and he had the grace to look somewhat abashed. Clyde turned back to her, giving her a grateful upturn of the lips.

"Thanks."

Clyde led the way, winding through familiar stacks until they emerged into an open space in the middle of the main room. The area was dotted with tables and chairs for patrons, and smack dab in the center sat a brunette woman Clyde vaguely recognized. 

She was wearing a suit... And then, a satisfied smile as soon as she saw them.

Clyde glanced at Jimmy, who just shrugged. As they walked forward to meet the woman, Clyde's pocket buzzed again, but he ignored it. 

When they reached the woman's table, her smile spread across her face, like too much butter on bread. Clyde was no one to judge, but he thought she would've been pretty if it weren't for the coldness in her eyes.

"Clyde, Jimmy," she acknowledged them. Her voice was as smug as her smile; clipped and confident. She gestured for them to sit, but they both hovered, towering over her.

"Do we know you?" Jimmy asked.

Somehow, the woman's grin widened again, putting Clyde in mind of the Cheshire cat from _Alice in Wonderland_. 

"You don't remember?" 

Clyde and Jimmy exchanged a look, then identical shrugs.

"We 'sposed to?" Jimmy asked.

The woman tried shrugging, too, but she was too stiff in the neck to ever look casual. It looked more like a jerk than a shrug. Still, her smile stayed.

"I saw you both at that bar you work at, Clyde," she answered, "Duck Tape, right? But that was a while ago."

Recognition trickled down Clyde's neck, settling into his skin. He remembered her. That night, he'd thought her friendly, though now she seemed the opposite.

He nodded.

"I remember," he confirmed. Again, his phone buzzed in his pocket, this time loud enough for them all to hear. The woman flinched.

"Who are you?" Jimmy asked. He was a patient man; more so than Clyde, though people often thought different. Clyde could tell his brother wanted to cut to the chase. This whole thing was too unsettling to draw out.

The woman's smile finally dissipated, twisting into a thin line. Her eyes were still cold and sharp.

"Special Agent Sarah Grayson of the FBI."

Both men froze solid, and Grayson's grin returned.

"Please, sit."

Clyde looked at Jimmy again. He nodded, his face a perfect mask as he pulled out one of the chairs across from her. Clyde followed suit, forcing his long limbs under the table just as his phone buzzed again.

"Turn that off," said Grayson coolly, all trace of congeniality gone. The buzzing stopped.

"What can we help you with today, ma'am?" asked Jimmy. His tone was polite but just as icy as hers. 

Grayson chuckled softly. 

"Just your confessions. For the robbery at the Charlotte Motor Speedway last year."

Somehow, Jimmy managed to keep his face impassive, green eyes boring into her brown ones. Clyde watched the exchange, wary of the way his own mouth pulled down into a frown.

"Sorry, ma'am, but we ain't got no  — "

"Let's save the theatrics, shall we?" Grayson interrupted, "I know you two did it. I knew you did it months ago, but I didn't have the evidence until now. Fitting place to meet, isn't this, Clyde?" 

Her eyes passed over him, and he resisted the urge to recoil from her attention. 

"Donating money to keep your public library running is noble, but pretty stupid when you shouldn't have that kind of money in the first place. And that's not all I know. I know you two didn't pull that heist on your own, either. But I don't need to talk to the Bang brothers or your sister. So let's save all of our time here and — "

Again, Clyde's phone buzzed, the vibration so loud it actually bugged Jimmy this time, who jumped a little in his seat. 

"Can you put that damn thing on silent?"

Clyde nodded, avoiding Grayson's eyes, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He swiped to unlock it, and just as he expected, was met with a bunch of the same prompts from his phone company. Or, at least, that's what he thought — 'till he actually read them.

 

**_739-56_ **  
_Hi, this is Sprint. We'll text you three questions about your experience (all texts free). We value your feedback and may follow up with a call. Type YES to continue with the survey._

 

**_739-56_ **  
_Question 1: Are you being harassed by a federal agent?_

**_739-56_ **  
_Question 2: Does she have brown hair, horse teeth, and a stick up her ass?_

**_739-56_ **  
_Question 3: Do you have the mental capacity to come up with a reasonable excuse to leave right now? If so, get Jimmy and get the fuck out of dodge._

**_739-56_**  
_Seriously, tell her you_ have _a family emergency, and that's why you're getting all of these texts. Don't say anything else. Just leave._

**_739-56_ **  
_Leave now, Clyde._

**_739-56_ **  
_The Resistance is on your side._

 

 

"We're leaving."

"Excuse me?" asked Grayson.

Jimmy said nothing, just eyed the phone in Clyde's palm.

"Family emergency, sorry, ma'am, you understand," Clyde murmured. He stood, Jimmy following, and turned to go. Grayson's eyes narrowed. 

"It doesn't matter," she warned, "Clock's ticking, boys. I'll give you thirty days to confess, or you'll be brought up on tax fraud, and back in jail. If you want to keep your sister out of this, or that pretty girlfriend of yours, call me when you're ready to talk."

Both brothers ignored her, careful to walk out of the library as if they hadn't just been accurately accused of a major robbery. 

They passed Holdo on the way, who gave Clyde a concerned smile. He nodded back.

Only once they were back out in the West Virginia sunshine did Jimmy round on him, grabbing his good arm and pulling him toward his beat up truck.

"What in God's name was that?"

Clyde didn't answer, just shoved his phone in front of Jimmy's face.

"But — " Jimmy started, voice a low murmur as he stared at the messages, "What the hell is the Resistance?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Rey this chapter, sorry. (Or WAS there?)
> 
> For the record, I don't hate Hilary Swank and I do think she's a beautiful woman, but I DEFINITELY hate her character in Logan Lucky. SORRY, NOT SORRY.
> 
> \--
> 
> Your feedback sustains my lifeforce, so please feel free to leave a comment or chat with me on Tumblr @rebelrebelreylo!
> 
> Finally, if you're enjoying this story and want to get email notifications when it's updated, please feel free to hit that Subscribe button! Thanks again, everyone. :)


	2. The Resistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first man opened his mouth to speak, but Clyde didn't let him get a word in — he pushed past Jimmy, stalked behind the bar, and crossed his arms over his chest. He kept his eyes on the first man when he spoke.
> 
> "Let me guess. You're the Resistance?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, um. This got away from me. 
> 
> *CONTENT WARNING: Just a heads up, there is mention of sexual assault in this chapter, but it's only mentioned, not described in any detail. If that thing triggers you, you've been warned. ALSO, there is mention of a real-life political figure in this chapter. If you don't wish to read, no worries, feel free to scroll down to the first content break, which looks like this:
> 
> \--
> 
> This will be a mostly happy story, but wanted to provide fair warning! The Resistance deal with all walks of life of people, by their own choice.

 

“Shit.” 

“What?” Rey asked, glancing at the girl next to her. She swirled the champagne in her glass, careful to keep her face neutral; bored, even. 

“It’s Grayson,” Rose murmured, barely moving her lips. She checked her phone with the practiced ease of an assistant ready to cater to her boss's every whim; quick, precise, keeping her eyes down.

Rey raised the champagne glass to her lips, pretending to take a sip.

"Mmm?" 

Rose's eyes flickered around the crowded rooftop bar until she found the man she was looking for; young, handsome, and laughing heartily next to a middle-aged man with watery blue eyes and lips pursed into what could _maybe_ be considered a smile.

"Poe's on the move," Rose continued, "He'll bring him over in a bit — "

"He's still working him," Rey replied. She adjusted her stance, leaning her arm almost lazily against the railing behind her, jutting her hip out just a little. Next to her, Rose allowed herself the tiniest of chuckles. 

"I know we're on a job but I can't _wait_  to see this prick go down."

Rey smirked. 

"Back at ya, babe. Now, what's the deal with Grayson?" Her brow furrowed the tiniest bit. Across the rooftop, Poe was moving their way, their target trailing behind him. Already, Rey saw him eyeing her with interest.

"Is it the Logans?" she asked out of the side of her mouth. 

Rose nodded, and Rey arched a brow.

“I’ll try to hurry this up, then.”

This time, Rey took a real sip. 

Just as she lowered her glass, Poe and his companion reached them; Poe wearing his winning smile, and the newly-appointed Associate Justice of the Supreme Court still ogling her.

"Kira," Poe called, voice warm with recognition, "So good to see you, darling. Glad you could make it. Have you had the pleasure of meeting Justice Kavanaugh?"

"I haven't," Rey drawled, eyes trailing the judge from eyes to toes, "Congratulations, _sir_."

Kavanaugh's eyes lit up at the term; he returned the once-over, gaze lingering on the defined waist of her dress, her cleavage, her mouth. He completely ignored Rose standing next to her. 

Behind painted lips, Rey held back a gag.

"Nice to meet you, Kira...?" he asked, holding out a hand. Rey took it, allowing him to squeeze her too hard with a sweaty palm.

"Kira Andor," she said, giving him the slightest of smiles. He released her, but not before giving her hand another squeeze.

"Yeah, yeah," said Kavanaugh, "Oscar here's been raving about you." 

Poe's smile widened; to anyone else, it would look genuine, but Rey knew better — Poe's real smile reached his eyes; making the deep brown flicker like a candle flame, golden and glowing. Now, they just looked brown.

“Has he?” Rey asked. 

“He’s said you’re just... _incredible_ at anticipating your clients’ needs,” continued Kavanaugh. “And I need a good publicist.”

“He’s sweet,” Rey deadpanned, smiling blandly at Poe. “Perhaps we should grab another drink and find a place to chat more privately about your _needs_ , sir. Unless your wife will miss you?”

“Oh, no, Ashley won't mind,” agreed Kavanaugh. "Oscar, you'll keep her company while Kira and I discuss business, won't you?"

"Of course, of course," said Poe. 

“Excellent. Lily, go grab us some drinks,” ordered Rey to Rose. “What’s your poison, Justice?”

"I love beer. Domestic," Kavanaugh said.

"Pinot Grigio," Rey sniffed. Rose nodded quickly, then disappeared into the crowd. 

"I'll leave you two to it, then," Poe grinned again, raising his own glass in salute before following her; his form getting lost in a sea of black suits. As soon as he'd gone, Kavanaugh slipped closer to her, his forearm bumping hers.

"I love your accent," he said, "When did you come to the states?"

"Oh, years ago," said Rey, "For school. I just _love_  America."

"We are the greatest country in the world — apart from England, of course," he said, winking at her. Rey managed to give him a paltry smile that seemed convincing enough; he grinned back at her the way she imagined the Zodiac killer might before offing someone. How did she always get saddled with these wankers?

"Oh, excuse me, sir. My apologies."

Rose was back with drinks in hand, and she'd stumbled _just_  casually enough into Kavanaugh on her way over.

She'd made the drop.

"Careful, Lily," Rey chided her, "Wouldn't want to make a mess, now would we?" She winked at Kavanaugh as he accepted his beer from Rose. 

Rose nodded, tilting her head down to hide her smirk, but Kavanaugh didn't even glance at her.

"Shall we?" he asked, extending his arm to Rey. She nodded, slipping her arm through his, and allowed him to lead her through the crowd and toward the exit. As they meandered their way toward the elevators, Rey leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"You know, I actually have a room. If that would work to chat."

Kavanaugh's grip tightened on her arm.

"Perfect," he agreed, "I just need to alert my personal security detail." 

Rey put on her best approximation of a spoiled Princess pout, to which Kavanaugh winked again. 

"Don't worry, he can wait outside while we _chat_. Here he is now!"

At the elevators, Finn stood waiting, stone-faced and in head-to-toe black.

"Kira, this is my security detail, John."

Finn nodded curtly before addressing Kavanaugh, unwilling to meet Rey's laughing eyes. She was really bad about trying to get him to break cover.

"Sir?" 

"Kira and I are heading downstairs to discuss working together on a public relations campaign. You can wait outside her room."

If Kavanaugh was a smarter man, he might've wondered why the private security he hired (and paid good money to) didn't protest at him going into a strange woman's room — but, then again, most of Kavanaugh's security was probably used to it when the man's wife wasn't present.

Finn nodded, then ushered them into the elevator, situating himself closest to the doors, back to Rey. Probably a good thing — she didn't want to break her cover, either, and Finn was such an easy target.

As the elevator chugged down, Kavanaugh leaned into her again, lips hovering close to her ear. 

"I'm afraid Oscar didn't go into too much detail about your, uh, _tactics_ , Kira. I hope we can...get into specifics."

Rey turned toward him — forcing his beer breath at least a few inches away from her — then slowly, _intentionally_ bit her bottom lip.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, sir."

Kavanaugh actually _waggled_  his eyebrows at her, then squeezed the skin of her forearm between stubby fingers. In front of them, Finn remained motionless, and Rey couldn't help but be a little jealous of his job on this one.

Finally, the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. It didn't take long for Rey to lead Kavanaugh toward the room Rose had secured earlier that day, Finn stalking behind them.

"I'll just be outside, as you requested, sir."  

Finn avoided Rey's gaze again, and a real smirk blossomed on her lips, but she wiped it away just as fast.

It was time to do the real work. 

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Kavanaugh was tugging her toward one of the standard queens in the middle.

“Sir?” she asked, drawing herself back. 

_Finn is right outside. Finn is right outside._  

It didn’t matter how many times she did this, or the satisfaction she got from taking a bastard like Kavanaugh down, or how much she reminded herself she was the one in control — being manhandled was always, always terrifying, even if just for a moment.

Rey kept her feelings in check, forcing another saucy smirk to spread across her lips. Just in time, too — she’d already seen a hint of that ugly, cold displeasure start to bloom in Kavanaugh’s eyes; a look she knew far too well.

“I thought, after talking with Oscar, that you might like to _play_  a little,” Rey said, “He told me what you’re looking for. What you _like_.”

“Did he?”

Kavanaugh’s beady eyes widened, and she nodded. 

It was now or never.

“Get on the bed,” she commanded, all trace of the Princess gone. In her place, she spoke with the voice of a General.

Kavanaugh stared at her for a long moment, watery eyes seeing something she didn't want to think about — but then, he obeyed, scrambling onto the bed closest to the door. He settled in the middle, splaying his legs out across the mattress.

“Grab the bedposts.”

Again, Kavanaugh obeyed. His mouth fell open; he watched her, transfixed. She took a tantalizing step forward.

“Close your eyes."

When he did, Rey bit her lip for real — it was the only way she could stem the tide of laughter building in her chest.

She strode over to him, leaning just far enough over the bed to run a hand along his tie. He arched toward her, but she shoved him back against the headboard. 

"Don't move."

He whimpered, and she rolled her eyes before untying his tie, then slipping the silk around his eyes.

"Bad boys like you don't get to see me."

"Kira — " 

"Shh. Hush, or I'll have to punish you. Is that what you want?"

He shut his mouth. Rey fished out the ties she'd stuffed down her bra earlier, and quick as a cat, bound each of his hands to the bed before stepping away.

"Kira? Where are you going?" he asked. Another drip of displeasure colored his tone, but this time, it was accompanied by fear, too.

Finally, Rey let out her laughter, perching across from the bed on the hotel room's desk.

"How many women have you assaulted, _sir_?"

This time, her 'sir' was sarcastic.

"W-what?" Kavanaugh asked. He struggled a little in his bindings. "This isn't funny, Kira. Oscar said — "

"Ah, yes, Oscar. Good guy. One of my best mates, actually. And you know what we do, Oscar and I, _sir_? We don't sell sex to dirty politicians, I'll tell you that."

Kavanaugh struggled a little more, but the bindings didn't budge.

"Who are you?" he asked. His voice held a frantic edge to it, now. "John! John, get in here."

Rey leaned back as Finn entered the room, careful to lock the door behind him.

"John, is that you? Call hotel security, this woman — "

"Is with me," interrupted Finn. "Boy man, you are stupid. Not sure I've seen a Washington pig this stupid yet, what about you, _Kira_?" 

"I don't think I have, which is saying something," Rey mused. 

Kavanaugh struggled even harder, but it was fruitless — Rey's knots were tighter than the Judge's asshole.

"Here's what's going to happen," Rey continued, "You may have gotten off easy with Ford, but we operate outside the law. We have irrefutable proof of you assaulting numerous women over the course of your career; audio, video, testimonies..."

"No," cried Kavanaugh, voice wobbling, "Who are you, people? You don't have anything. This is a sham; there was never anybody recording anything. You have no evidence; none, and I've got calendars proving that I was nowhere near anywhere you say I was. There are people who will vouch for me; I — "

"Shut up," Rey groused. "We've already sent a packet — one of many copies — with the evidence in question to your office, and your home. There were a lot of women who wanted to talk after Ford, Kavanaugh. Johnson... Bell... Ross... I could go on." 

She paused for dramatic effect.

"But don't cry, Judge. I just told you — we don't play by Washington's rules, _sir_. We're not trying to get you impeached."

"You're... you're not?" Kavanaugh asked. Tears coated his throat and trickled down his cheeks.

"Nope," Rey said loftily, a grin unfurling across her face, "But in order to keep all of this quiet, you're going to have to pay."

 

\--

 

Twenty minutes later, a black SUV pulled up outside of the Watergate hotel, and two bodies slipped inside.

"How'd it go?" asked Poe, who glanced in the rearview mirror at Rey and Finn.

"Perfect," Finn grinned. "Rey got him to start _sobbing_."

"He admitted all of it," Rey added, smiling grimly, "Confirmed three more attacks than we expected, and we got it all on audio. Thanks, Rose." 

The tiny Asian woman in the front seat saluted, gaze buried in her phone.

"What do you think he'll do when he realizes there wasn't enough substantial evidence to leak in the first place?" Finn mused.

"He'll pay," Rey reasoned. "Bet you twenty bucks Rose already sent a clip of what just went down to his email."

"You can't — "

"I sent it five minutes ago," Rose piped up. "Finn, babe, seriously? Ouch." 

"I wasn't going to say you couldn't — "

"You owe me twenty bucks!" Rey grinned.

"You two are in cahoots together," Finn pouted.

"Yup!" both women chimed.

"More importantly, he's in our pocket now," said Poe, "We get a whiff of him leaning too far in a direction we don't like, we're on him."

"Rose, what happened with Grayson and the Logans?"

At Rey's question, Rose turned in her seat, maneuvering her petite body up and around so she could meet Rey's eyes.

"Grayson made her move," Rose said, "So it looks like we're going to West Virginia."

 

\--

 

“Where are we goin’?” asked Clyde. Jimmy's sharp turn in the opposite direction of his and Sylvie's house had him clutching the seat with his good hand. "Not back to your place?"

"Hell no," said Jimmy. "You heard her. She mentioned Sylvie and Mellie. We ain't goin' back to either of our houses right now."

The unexpected intrusion of the mysterious Resistance had driven Grayson's taunt about Sylvie and Mellie straight from Clyde's mind, but the reminder set his blood to boil. 

"Go to Duck Tape," he said, "Bar is empty this early; we don’t open for a few hours."

Jimmy didn’t argue. Wordlessly, he took another sharp turn, driving his old pickup in the direction of Boone County’s best bar. 

“Park in back,” Clyde advised. Again, Jimmy obeyed; parking close to the rear door. Jimmy followed Clyde after he unlocked it, emerging in the back office. 

“All right, let’s — ”

“Drinks first,” interjected Jimmy, pushing past him. Clyde huffed, following Jimmy out of the office and into the bar — ramming right into his brother's back.

"Jesus Mary and Joseph, Jimmy, what're you — "

“Hello there.”

Clyde froze, finally looking over Jimmy's shoulder to the room ahead. 

Four strangers sat waiting at the bar. 

It wasn't just their unexplained presence in a closed bar that was surprising — it was also just rare to see such a motley group in Boone County. 

The first man — the one who seemed to have spoken — was roguishly handsome, Hispanic, and wearing a smile that would charm the pants off of most women in Boone in a blink. Next to him sat a tiny, bespectacled Asian woman with streaks of purple in her hair. She kept twirling her phone in her hands, glancing at the screen. Third down was an African-American guy whose lips were turned down in a slight frown, his arm casually draped around the back of the Asian girl. 

At the very end of the bar was another woman — tall, lean, and dark-haired, her hazel eyes were fixed on Clyde, and he felt his ears burn under her scrutiny. Her mouth was curled into something between a smirk and a pout, and he couldn't seem to stop looking at her lips.

How they'd gotten inside, Clyde didn't know, but he found himself gripping the keys in his jean pocket so hard he knew there'd be indentations on his good hand. A part of him he kept buried — buried in the sands of himself, the sands of the desert he'd killed in — simmered near the surface; burning up near his esophagus.

He pushed the adrenaline down, that fighting fear; that exhilarating terror, and clenched the keys even tighter.

"Who are you?" he asked. The roiling panic in his gut didn't leak into his voice; the low rumble was nearly the same as always. Only Jimmy seemed to notice his turmoil; he twitched in front of Clyde like he wanted to glance back at him, but he didn't, keeping his eyes on all four of the intruders. 

The first man opened his mouth to speak, but Clyde didn't let him get a word in — he pushed past Jimmy, stalked behind the bar, and crossed his arms over his chest. He kept his eyes on the first man when he spoke.

"Let me guess. You're the Resistance?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you scrolled down to get past the political bit, please note that the Resistance (Poe, Finn, Rose, and Rey, as far as we know right now) act as a group similar to an Anonymous; they bribe and blackmail dirty politicians, corrupt bureaucrats, and criminals (of ALL political affiliations) to make money.
> 
> \--
> 
> Sorry for the lack of Clyde in this one, but our two kiddos will be together full-time in Chapter 3. I hope you're as excited for that as I am!
> 
> Your feedback sustains my lifeforce, so please feel free to leave a comment or chat with me on Tumblr @rebelrebelreylo!
> 
> Finally, if you're enjoying this story and want to get email notifications when it's updated, please feel free to hit that Subscribe button! Thanks again, everyone. :)


	3. Bribe and Prejudice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Let me guess. You're the Resistance?" 
> 
> The first man raised an eyebrow, grin widening.
> 
> “People really do underestimate you Logans, don’t they?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO sorry this has taken so long. Life and holidays got in the way. Hoping to get back on a good bi-weekly schedule after this update with my other WIP, if not this month, certainly in January. Thank you for your patience, and thank you for reading! This chapter is short, but our Virginia boys finally meet the Resistance.

 

"Let me guess. You're the Resistance?" 

The first man raised an eyebrow, grin widening.

“People really do underestimate you Logans, don’t they?”

Clyde glowered at him in answer, determinedly not looking at the woman at the end of the bar. He could still feel her appraising him.

Jimmy sauntered over but didn’t join Clyde. Instead, he straddled the line between the front and back of the bar top, casually propping his arms on the edge; you could see his waxy reflection in the polished oak. 

He was posturing; Clyde knew that. He knew Jimmy, and Jimmy was no stranger to exerting control over a situation. He wasn’t comfortable not having it. 

“Listen, you’re trespassin’,” Jimmy drawled, “So unless you got somethin’ good to say, you should be on your way. We’re real friendly with the local sheriff.”

The woman on the far end actually _snorted_. Clyde’s eyes snapped to hers; immediately, he regretted it — she was stifling a chuckle, hazel eyes gleaming with a suspicious knowing he really didn’t like.

“Sorry,” she said, still smiling, “It’s just we all know how _friendly_  you are with the authorities. After all, that’s why we’re here.” 

It was hard to focus on what she was saying because of how she sounded when she spoke — the _shape_ of the long vowels; the sweet, lilting color of each word. Her accent was like one Clyde had rarely heard outside of movies. 

The fact that her lips were as pink and pretty as a rosebud had nothing to do with it. 

“And how’d you know that, exactly? How’d you send me these?” He held up his phone with his good hand. He noticed her glance at the other one, and his mouth twisted into a scowl.

The room went still for a second as if God lowered a great hand and swiped all the air from the room. Jimmy eyed Clyde with something he’d call incredulity. It wasn’t like him to pipe up so much during any sort of dust-up; hell, it wasn’t like him to speak much at all. But this girl, with her laughing eyes and bright smile...

Again, Clyde tore his eyes away from her, forcing himself to look down at the bar instead. Why was his heart racing so hard?

“What my brother asked,” said Jimmy, voice smooth. The familiarity soothed the jagged edges that were Clyde’s nerves, even if just a little. He didn’t dare look back up.

“Valid questions,” said the first man, “Listen, fellas, believe it or not, we’re here because we want to help you — ”

“Then answer the questions,” interrupted Jimmy.

There was a beat of silence, but Clyde didn’t see the first man’s reaction. When he spoke, though, he didn’t sound aggravated or even annoyed. If anything, he sounded _pleased_.

“Yes. We _are_ the Resistance. And yes, we sent those texts. It was the simplest and most covert way to get into contact.”

“And what is the Resistance? Why’d you want to get into contact with us?” asked Jimmy. Clyde still didn’t look up. He didn’t need to; he could hear the steel in his older brother’s voice. It was the same grit that’d coated his tongue when he’d announced he wanted to rob the Charlotte Motor Speedway.

Clyde looked up. He couldn’t help it.

“Good question,” said the man, “Think of us like a...  _specialized_ agency. We do a few different but important things — ” his eyes twinkled as he smirked at Clyde’s stare, “ — mostly, we safeguard or share sensitive information in exchange for a fee.” 

Jimmy looked at it Clyde, brows slightly raised, and Clyde nodded almost imperceptibly. 

“So, you steal secrets and make money off bribes and blackmail,” said Jimmy, “We get it. Explain what that’s got to do with us.”

The man’s smirk grew into a smile like a weed shot up through the dirt. His teeth were perfect and white. 

“Now, now; sometimes we use said information to help — ”

“Oh, get on with it, Poe,” groaned the British woman with distracting eyes. Anger flashed across the man called Poe’s face so fast Clyde wasn’t sure he’d seen it at all, but then, he’d seen anger hide behind smiles before. This man could charm like a snake, so it stood to reason he could snap like one, too.

“They need to understand — ”

“You’re not trying to hustle a politician here,” the woman interrupted again, rolling her eyes. She turned to both brothers, propping her elbows on the bar to pull herself closer.

“I’ll sum up: we know the FBI’s got your trail, and we want to help. But only in exchange for a cut of the take you got last year. Simple. _Easy_.”

Clyde let his gaze linger on her for a bit longer than was wise, but she’d spoken this time at least, and he wasn’t raised to not look a lady in the eye when she was talkin’ to him. It wasn’t polite.

Jimmy’s harsh laugh broke the silence, but not Clyde’s stare. The woman’s eyes flicked to him.

“Why on earth would we believe any of this horseshit you’re shovelin’?” he asked, “You could be _with_ that FBI lady. You could be lyin’ through your teeth about everything you _say_ you know. Don’t tell me the FBI can’t do that fancy phone shit. Either way, what you’re sayin’ ain’t enough for us to let loose on anything we may or may not know about what happened at the Speedway.” 

He opened his hand on top of the bar. Silently, Clyde drew up a glass; poured Jimmy's favorite draft from the tap, then slid it down to him. He caught it with a quarterback’s fingers, then took a long gulp before speaking again.

“And you’re still trespassin’.”

The strangers exchanged a look. A beat passed, and then, to Clyde's surprise, the British woman spoke again, eyes trained on _him_. Her smile slipped away as she spoke.

"We know things the FBI has no business knowing," she said, voice soft. Like she was speaking only to him. "Special Forces, right?" 

Clyde dragged in a breath that pinched. It felt like... like breathing in sand, and for a moment, for a split-second, he was back in the red haze, back in the coarse dirt, and the coppery smell of blood prickled under his nose. 

He felt Jimmy stiffen next to him, but he didn't look. He just stared at her, focusing on forcing out the pain in his lungs; the tingling where his hand used to be. 

"Threats aren't proof," Jimmy growled. "I'll say it again: y'all should leave. Now."

"It's not a threat — " started the woman, but Poe cut her off.

"We'll go," agreed Poe, sliding off his barstool, "Think about what we said. If you decide you want to talk some more, text a time and a location to the number you have already. You've got 24 hours, and then we're heading out of town."

He strode toward the bar door, the others following. Only the hazel-eyed girl hesitated, still watching Clyde with a strange expression on her face. Was it... pity? 

The thought made him feel sick. 

Poe opened the door, and his people shuffled back out into the sunlight. He made to follow, then turned back. Another smirk graced his lips.

"What did Grayson say you had? 30 days to confess?" He whistled. "Well, she's not wrong. Clock's ticking."

And with that, he left, letting the bar door bang shut behind him.

Jimmy raised his glass and downed the rest of his beer in one gulp.

"What the fuck was that?" he asked, wiping foam away from his mouth with the back of his hand.

Clyde took his time answering, choosing to survey his liquor stock instead of meeting Jimmy’s eyes.

“You heard ‘em,” he finally said, voice low.

“Yeah, I did,” countered Jimmy, “And I can see you workin’ through what they said; it’s all over your face. They’re bluffin’, Clyde. Don’t buy their bullshit.”

“How else do you explain them bein’ here, Jimmy?” Clyde burst out, dark eyes burning like coals on Christmas. “How else do you explain them sending those messages or knowin’ — ”

“Don’t go Logan family curse on me now,” Jimmy interrupted.

Clyde glowered at him.

“I wasn’t,” he argued, “But you gotta admit they knew too much. Way too much. And we got no answers, and we’re still staring down that FBI lady. What’re you thinking we should do about her, huh?”

Jimmy’s lips grew tight. He set his glass back in the bar top, shoving it toward Clyde. He didn’t move to refill it. Neither spoke for a long moment; the air thick as gravy between them.

“You heard her, Jimmy,” Clyde intoned, “She mentioned Mels and Sylvie.”

“I know,” Jimmy grunted, curling his hand around the lip of the bar. 

“You gotta think about them, and Sadie — ”

“I thought your life of crime was over?” Jimmy barked.

Clyde dropped his gaze. Instead, he focused on finally refilling Jimmy’s glass. Silently, he passed it to him, and Jimmy sighed.

“Sorry,” he muttered, “Leave it. For now. We’ll... We’ll figure somethin’ out.”

Clyde worked his jaw, then nodded. He knew how far to push Jimmy, and he’d pushed far enough.

For now.

 

\--

 

Clyde couldn’t sleep.

Normally, he left his phone in the kitchen after he got home from Duck Tape; he didn’t have much use for it outside of texts from his small circle of friends and family. But tonight he kept it close, even after he’d gone to bed — rereading the texts the Resistance had sent over and over again. 

 

_**739-56  
** _ _Leave now, Clyde._

_**739-56  
** _ _The Resistance is on your side._

 

The voice in his head read the words in _her_  voice; cultured and soft in his ears. She sounded like she smiled — bright and warm. Like sunlight. Such a contrast to the words she’d spoken.

The acrid taste of ash soured his mouth, and he blinked, squinting at the words. The bluish light from his phone hurt his eyes, but he couldn’t stop staring.

What did she know? What did they all know?

He understood Jimmy’s response, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that this group was genuine. Why else reach out the way they did? If they were with Grayson, why bother with the texts ruse? Why look into sealed files in his military record?

That’s what she’d implied; that she knew a hell of a lot more than what she could easily see. 

Reflexively, he flinched, resisting the impulse to look at where his arm used to be.

Clyde shook his head, thumb hovering over the keyboard. After moment’s deliberation, he began to type with his lone thumb; methodical, slow.

 

_**To: 739-56  
**__Tomorrow_ , _9 AM. At the diner on Park Ave._

 

Jimmy be damned.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your feedback sustains my lifeforce, so please feel free to leave a comment or chat with me on Tumblr @rebelrebelreylo!
> 
> Finally, if you're enjoying this story and want to get email notifications when it's updated, please feel free to hit that Subscribe button! Thanks again, everyone. :)


	4. Burnt Bacon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Why’re you here?" he asked. She set down her cup, frowning for the first time, and he was struck by the loss of her smile. It was like the shade of night being pulled down over the sky; just as beautiful, but in a completely different way than daylight.
> 
> "You know why I'm here," she said, lowering her voice, "We're here to negotiate the Resistance's... services in exchange for a cut."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo hoo! Forewarning, this will probably be my last update of this fic until after the holidays; I have another mythological fantasy WIP I want to update and two gift exchange fics I'm working on, so those will demand a portion of my time. Still, I hope you enjoy our two thieves meeting properly this time around. :D
> 
> A huge shout-out and thank you to my new and amazing beta and BFF, [LoveofEscapism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveofEscapism/pseuds/LoveofEscapism), for working with me on this chapter. <3

Rey Niima was a patient person. She was good at waiting — she ought to be, after spending so many years doing it.  
  
So she was surprised to feel so... _frustrated_ by the Logan brothers’ lack of response.  
  
“Anything?” she asked.  
  
Rose swiveled around in the motel room’s desk chair, wearing a flat stare.  
  
“No, Rey. For the tenth time, there’s been nothing.”  
  
Rey groaned, then fell back on her queen, fisting the sheets. The motel room ceiling was the kind that looked like half-popped popcorn; all ridged and puckered.  
  
“Still obsessed, I see.”  
  
Rose was careful to keep her tone neutral, but amusement — and confusion — still bled through. At least to Rey. She didn’t respond.  
  
“Why are you so invested in this case?"  
  
Rey considered the question, contemplating the best way to phrase her answer. At first glance, many assumed that Rose was too analytical a person to be shrewd about people, but that was their mistake. Rose wasn't just a brilliant hacker because she was a genius with data; she understood the humans that wrote the code.  
  
When Rey gazed at her, she had that look in her eye — like an android on _Star Trek_ or something; scanning, processing, deducing. Like Rey was a particularly tricky algorithm.    
  
Rey propped herself up on her elbows.  
  
"I told you... I don't really know."  
  
Rose arched an eyebrow.  
  
"It doesn't have anything to do with Jimmy Logan, does it?"  
  
Rey huffed, rolling her eyes.  
  
"Come on, Rose. Give me a little credit."  
  
"Hey, pardon me for noticing your wandering eyes today — "  
  
"What?" Rey burst out, "That's ridiculous, I wasn't looking at — "  
  
She froze, and Rose grinned.  
  
A beat passed in silence, and Rey tried to shake off her surprise at how, _again (always)_ Rose could slice straight through to the core of her, exposing raw nerves; truths she tried to burn or bury. Things she didn't let anyone see — not even Finn.  
  
"So. Not Jimmy then," continued Rose, still eyeing her, though now her eyes were softer, gentler, "I'm not chastising you, Rey. I just think you should be careful."  
  
"It doesn't matter," Rey countered, flopping back onto the mattress. "I'm not doing anything. And we all need to be careful. Poe should eat his own words; he's already underestimating the Logans."  
  
She paused, picking at invisible lint on the sheets.  
  
"Just... ever since we caught wind of the Speedway heist, I couldn't stop following the story."  
  
"I remember," said Rose. Rey nodded absently, still fidgeting. Thief's fingers.  
  
"When you broke into Grayson's files, and we pieced together what we think happened, well."  
  
She stopped fidgeting.  
  
"You know how far I dug. There's more to this job than just money for those two."  
  
"I know," said Rose, "That's why we're here."    
  
  
\--  
  
  
"Burnt bacon?"  
  
The hazel-eyed girl slunk into the seat across from him, smiling a little at the squelch of her jeans on the booth's plastic upholstery.  
  
Clyde stared at her, taking in different points of her face — eyes, cheekbones, lips, jaw, neck. She was all smooth planes and soft skin. He shook his head, looking back at his plate.  
  
She was too distracting, but he couldn't figure out why. He'd known plenty of pretty girls in his lifetime; what was it about this one?  
  
"You know," she said, lightly, "Where I'm from, crispy bacon is sort of blasphemy. But burnt? You might as well go straight to hell."  
  
He raised his eyes to hers. She was smiling; the sort of smile that lit up her whole face. It was the kind that would've turned an average person into something beautiful — on her, it was almost blinding.    
  
A muscle jumped in his cheek; twitching up the side of his mouth in a half-smile he couldn't tamp down.  
  
"Good thing it's already black, then."  
  
She chuckled, her smile stretching her cheeks even wider, and Clyde started sweating.  
  
"So." He cleared his throat. "What's your name?"  
  
She didn't answer right away. He tore his eyes away from her, waving to Annie — one of the Park Ave's best waitresses — who was refilling Earl's coffee just a few tables away.  
  
"It's Rey."  
  
His gaze snapped back to her. He opened his mouth, then shut it.  
  
"What?" Rey asked, still wearing her megawatt smile, though it had mellowed into something a little softer.  
  
"Nothin'," he started, "It's just... your name fits your face."  
  
She wrinkled her nose at that a little bit, but her grin stayed put.  
  
"Haven't heard that before," she admitted, "But it's nice. Thank you."  
  
He shrugged. Just then, Annie bustled over. The woman was easily in her 60's, with cotton candy-colored hair, bright blue eyeshadow, and long red nails; a sharp contrast to the pressed white of her uniform.    
  
"Another order of bacon already, boy? I — "  
  
Annie's eyes fell on Rey.  
  
"Oh, sorry, Miss!" The older woman beamed, sharp eyes darting back and forth between the pair. "You didn't say you were waiting for a lady friend, Clyde."  
  
Clyde ducked his head, not wanting either woman to see the spectacular shade of pink painting his pale skin. At least his hair covered his ears.  
  
"You want somethin'?" He addressed the salt shaker.  
  
"Stack of pancakes, please."  
  
Nimble fingers grabbed one of the stray mugs already on the table and turned it over.  
  
"And a coffee would be lovely. Thank you — Annie."  
  
"Sure thing, honey," she replied, pouring her a steaming cup, "Did you want that second plate, Clyde?"  
  
Clyde shifted in his seat, then looked up at her, hoping it was safe. He didn't love the hawkish look she was wearing — he had no doubt that everyone across town would know he'd breakfasted with a strange woman by sundown — but there wasn't much he could do about that.  
  
"Just a refill, thanks."  
  
Annie smiled with shark's teeth as she tipped more black into his mug, then skirted away to put in Rey's order.  
  
"She knows you."  
  
Clyde's eyes flickered back to Rey. She was watching him thoughtfully. He nodded.  
  
"Everyone knows everyone here."  
  
"I see," said Rey. She raised her mug to her lips, then took a ginger sip before shuddering in pleasure.  
  
"Surprised you're not drinkin' tea."  
  
"See now, that's a stereotype," she replied. She clutched the coffee mug just underneath her nose.  
  
Clyde pushed his empty plate aside, then leaned forward a bit, watching her. His prosthetic hand stayed in his lap under the table.  
  
"Sorry," he murmured, inclining his head. "Shouldn't've said it."  
  
Her grin faltered a little.  
  
"I'm just teasing you, Clyde." She took another big gulp of the coffee, her face pinching at the heat on her tongue.  
  
"Why’re you here?" he asked. She set down her cup, frowning for the first time, and he was struck by the loss of her smile. It was like the shade of night being pulled down over the sky; just as beautiful, but in a completely different way than daylight.  
  
"You know why I'm here," she said, lowering her voice, "We're here to negotiate the Resistance's... _services_ in exchange for a cut."  
  
"Yes," he agreed, "But why are _you_ here?"  
  
She paused.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"I think you heard me," he said. His voice was soft, but had a command to it that was dusty; well-used, but filed away years back.  
  
She'd wrapped small hands around her mug. His eyes flicked down to her gripping the sides, knuckles white around the ceramic.  
  
"I volunteered to meet you."  
  
"Why just you?"  
  
The frown she wore twisted into a slight scowl, and he felt his heart catapult up into his throat. Still, he let the question — and the implication — hang between them, naked as the day he was born.  
  
"I could ask the same question," she countered. "Does Jimmy know you're here?"  
  
"No," he said simply, taking a gulp of his own coffee. The warmth slid smoothly down his throat, soothing away a little bit of the lump. "But we both know why he isn't. You're not answerin' my question. On purpose."  
  
She said nothing, just flexed those pretty, deft fingers around her mug. He recognized the itch, and envy spiked with something... _else_ coiled around the lump in his throat, but he ignored it.  
  
"See," he started, voice measured, "I think it's for the same reason y'all texted me with your warnings, and not Jimmy. And the same reason you mentioned my record. You're the kind of people who know how — and _where_ — to apply the right amount of pressure."  
  
She continued to watch him, hazel eyes occasionally darting down to his lips, but he didn't trust that one bit. Didn't matter how much he might like to.  
  
He leaned forward a little further.  
  
"Grayson tried that, too," he said, quiet, "Didn't work. Not that way, anyway."  
  
They were interrupted by the return of Annie with Rey's pancakes. She set them in front of her, smiling slightly, picking up on the tension.  
  
"There you go, honey," she said, "Syrup's on the table. Holler if you need anything else, Clyde?"  
  
He nodded, and the older woman flitted away — likely back to the kitchen to gossip about the pair with the fry cook, Hank. Rey's scowl stuck to her face like sap, but at the same time, she spoke with a tight determination that seemed... sincere.  
  
"I'm not trying to manipulate you, Clyde," she said, "Not like that."  
  
He considered her, all blazing eyes and quiet seething, then nodded.  
  
"Good."  
  
"Good," she agreed, tone clipped, but polite. She snatched the butter from the edge of the table, then starting spreading great globs of it across her cakes.  
  
"So."  
  
She finished with the butter, reaching for the jam.  
  
"Not syrup?" he asked, genuinely curious.  
  
She glanced up at him, shrugging herself.  
  
"I like the sweet, but I'll always pick fruit over anything else."  
  
He nodded. She was spreading just as much — if not _more_ — raspberry jam over her pancakes as she did butter. He watched as she carefully rolled one of the massive cakes into a sort of pancake burrito stuffed full of butter and jam, then took a giant bite. A bit of gooey red spilled onto her plate, and he chuckled.  
  
"Smart," he commented. He didn't banish the amused smile that gripped his lips this time.  
  
She didn't spare a glance for him, too focused on chewing, mouth moaning around the treat. He tried to shut that sound out, but he caught it in his ears, and had a feeling it would come back to haunt him later.  
  
"Good?"  
  
She met his eyes then, swallowing and setting down the pancake. Despite how messy the whole thing was, she hadn't gotten a lick of jam on her face or hands. She wiped them with a napkin anyway.  
  
"Very good. Best I've had in awhile."  
  
"I'll have to try 'em like that sometime," he said, nodding toward her plate.  
  
"I swear by it," she said, smiling a little again. When she didn't pick up the pancake again, Clyde cleared his throat.  
  
"Glad I picked this place to meet, then."  
  
"Me too," she said lightly, glancing around. "I've always liked places like this."  
  
"You been here before?" he asked. "West Virginia, I mean."  
  
"I hadn't," she admitted, "It's... more beautiful than I expected."  
  
He nodded, taking another sip of his coffee.  
  
"Lot of America is like that."  
  
"True," she agreed.  
  
"Where in England are you from?" he asked. He asked without thinking; too curious to remember that the question contradicted every line he'd just drawn between them.  
  
Maybe she wouldn't notice. A fool's hope, but... least he recognized it for what it was.  
  
A silent shadow passed over her face, but then she was smiling and shrugging again.  
  
"Bit of everywhere. I've been here for awhile."    
  
He nodded, unsure if he'd asked too much.  
  
"Have you been there?"  
  
He looked down at his lap. The slate carbon-fiber of his hand was matte, but still had a sheen to it that caught his eye every now and again.  
  
On the table, his fingers twitched.  
  
"Can't say so," he said. "Just known a couple 'a good guys from 'round there."  
  
She nodded, then picked up her pancake to take another bite. He cast around for something else to say apart from what he should say, but came up with nothing.  
  
To business, then.  
  
"So."  
  
"So," she echoed back, patting her mouth with her napkin, "If Jimmy doesn't know you're here, what are you doing here?"  
  
"If y'all are who you say... well, he'll come 'round," said Clyde. "But I need more."  
  
"More what?"  
  
"Intel."  
  
She frowned again.  
  
"That's part of the deal."  
  
He leaned in a little closer, resting his good arm on the table. He ignored her soft inhale at the movement; focusing on her eyes. Up close, the green that threaded through the brown was even easier to see. They sparkled a little in the mid-morning sunshine.    
  
"Not just on Grayson," he clarified, lowering his voice. "We'll need insurance. Info on you all, too."  
  
He expected her to look away, but she didn't. She stared back, meeting his gaze with the same intensity he knew he was weighing her down with.  
  
"You have my word."  
  
He raised a dark brow, but didn't say the words he wanted — _Is it any good?_ — instead, he nodded his acceptance at her assurance.  
  
"It's a deal, then," she murmured, "When can we all meet?"  
  
\--  
  
When he got home, Clyde found Jimmy waiting for him.  
  
He sat on his stoop, drinking a beer from Clyde's fridge. Never mind that it wasn't even noon, or that he didn't have a key to Clyde's new house.  
  
Clyde slammed his car door shut; the old black Impala rattling a little at the impact.  
  
"You oughta be nicer to that car," Jimmy called from the stoop. "Earl'll have your hide. You know he got that thing off his buddy Bobby outta South Dakota when he passed. Still can't believe he sold it to you."  
  
Clyde strode across his lawn, coming to tower over his brother.  
  
"You and Mels," he muttered, "It's just a car. How'd you get in my house?"  
  
"Found the key under your mat. You need a better hiding spot."  
  
"That's your key and you know it," Clyde challenged him, "I left it there for you. Just keep it."  
  
Jimmy nodded, taking another swig of his beer.  
  
"You gonna tell me where you was?"  
  
Clyde sighed, running his hand through his hair — a gesture Jimmy's shrewd eyes could never miss on his younger brother.  
  
"You met with them, didn't ya?"  
  
Clyde nodded, shuffling from one foot to the other. Jimmy kept looking him over; like a parent parsing the truth from a naughty child. From anyone else, that would've annoyed Clyde, but with Jimmy, well...  
  
He'd made his peace with it.  
  
"With that girl?"  
  
Clyde frowned, but nodded again.  
  
"We meetin' their whole crew?"  
  
"Later tonight," affirmed Clyde, "I called in. You should, too."  
  
It was Jimmy's turn to sigh. He took another pull then vaulted upwards, making to move inside.  
  
"All right, then. Let's get movin'."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your feedback sustains my lifeforce, so please feel free to leave a comment or chat with me on Twitter or Tumblr (yes, still there) @rebelrebelreylo!
> 
> Finally, if you're enjoying this story and want to get email notifications when it's updated, please feel free to hit that Subscribe button! Thanks again, everyone. :)


	5. Razzle Dazzle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Weren’t you goin’ to dazzle us with a proposal of some kind?” asked Jimmy.
> 
> “Absolutely.” Poe’s sparkling smile was back. “But first, our terms.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The teams truly meet and the planning for the heist begins, yay! I know this chapter isn't ACTUALLY long, but it's a lot of dialogue, so I hope it's okay. 
> 
> Also, I have a couple of artists I listen to while writing this fic but if you have any other folk or bluegrass or really, anything you think fits that Logan Lucky vibe, I'd be grateful if you'd throw it in a comment! 
> 
> A huge shout-out and thank you to AMAZING beta and BFF, [LoveofEscapism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveofEscapism/pseuds/LoveofEscapism), for working with me on this chapter. <3 ILU girl.

  
Special Agent Sarah Grayson loved loose ends — when they suited her.

She took a seat in a corner booth of the rundown diner. She didn’t touch the menu; there were smudges on the plastic. After a few minutes, the waitress trudged over. She’d be hard to miss with her shock of pink hair and unflattering, outdated eyeshadow.

"Hello and welcome to the Park Avenue Restaurant and Motel. What can I get for you today, hon?" said the elderly woman. She eyed Grayson like she was a zoo animal.

"Wheat toast with just a _pat_ of butter. A side of grapefruit. And coffee," the waitress stared, " _please_ ," Grayson tacked on, forcing her lips into a tight smile.

"Sure thing, dear." The woman bustled off to the kitchen, and Grayson tapped perfectly manicured nails on the tabletop.

It only took a few minutes to get her toast. She frowned at it — soggy with salted butter — as the waitress placed it in front of her, out of season grapefruit on the side.  

"Thank you, Annie," said Grayson, exposing her teeth in a careful smile.

The elderly woman blinked at her. After a beat, she shook her pink head, then reached for one of the stray mugs sitting atop the table.

"Of course, hon. New to town?"

Annie tipped coffee into the cup, eyes flickering over Grayson's immaculate suit.

"Something like that," Grayson replied. Even she thought the coffee smelled amazing. "How well do you know Clyde Logan, Annie?"

Annie paused, her pour turning into a dribble.

"I know all them Logans. Clyde's a good boy. He in some kind of trouble?" she asked. Her tone was hesitant; not cold, but certainly not friendly. She stopped pouring, and Grayson reached for the coffee.

"Does he come here often?" Grayson asked. She raised the mug to her mouth, then took a sip. Warmth spread throughout her chest; pleasant and tingling. It was the perfect temperature.

Annie pursed her lips, then nodded.

"Big man like Clyde needs a good breakfast. This doesn't got nothin' to do with the army, does it? Because that boy served his time and paid for it— "

"No, no," Grayson cut in, taking another sip. "Nothing like that."

"Good," said Annie, "you just look all official."

"Oh, I am," smiled Grayson. This one was easy because it was genuine. "I heard Clyde came in this morning and met a woman. What can you tell me about her?"

An ugly sort of frown dragged down the wrinkles on Annie's face.

"A lady friend is my guess. Pretty girl, definitely from out of town. If you'll 'scuse me, dear. I have a few other customers to tend to; holler if you need anythin' else."

Grayson's smile faded as Annie retreated into the kitchen.

 _Definitely from out of town_ , she mused. That meant something.

 

\--

 

They met in the library.

After hours, of course. Clyde's pull with Holdo helped them out there; he'd made the call, and fortunately, she'd said yes. She didn't press him for details, just told him where she'd leave her spare key to the back entrance.

He and Jimmy got there half an hour early. They'd agreed — no more surprises.

Clyde deliberately picked a different spot to meet than the table in the reading room where he and Jimmy had met Grayson. Instead, they situated themselves in squashy armchairs near the front of the old building. There were just enough of them circling a low coffee table that they'd each have a seat, though admittedly not close together — him, Jimmy, Rey, and the rest of her crew.

Six seats around a round table, all on equal footing. Like Arthur and his knights.

When Rey and the rest of the Resistance arrived, Clyde checked his phone. They were early, too.

She'd followed the instructions from his text; coming in through the back. She, along with the Hispanic man — _Poe?_ Clyde remembered — led the other two, emerging out of the shelves like shadows until they entered the dim halo of light coming from the front desk lamp.

“Glad you beat us here this time,” remarked Poe. He wore a smile that stunk to Clyde; broad and boasting.

Jimmy didn’t seem to like it either. He didn’t say anything, but Clyde saw his hands tighten on the armrests of his chair.

Unprompted, Rey and the others took their seats in the circle. To Clyde’s surprise, the African-American man took the seat next to his, the Asian woman following. Rey sat next to her, unsmiling, and Poe settled himself between her and Jimmy.

Silence stuck between them, thick as molasses. The man next to him cleared his throat.

“I’m Finn,” he said, smiling slightly. “And this is — ”

“Rose,” said the woman next to him. Like Rey, she didn’t smile. Instead, she studied him like he was a math problem she couldn’t quite figure out.

Clyde’s eyes flickered towards Rey. He knew how she felt.

Rey met his gaze, her lips upturning a little at the sides, and Clyde’s neck suddenly felt uncomfortably warm.

“That’s us,” said Poe. His voice was like a sharp snap in the quiet; too loud, too congenial. When Clyde turned to him, he was still grinning.

“Our real names. As a start.”

Jimmy snorted.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” he smirked. His smirk twisted into a grimace. “Anyway, first names don’t mean much.”

“Maybe not.” Poe shrugged, smile finally slipping from his face. “But we’re here. You asked for this meeting.”

Clyde and Jimmy exchanged a look.

“Weren’t you goin’ to dazzle us with a proposal of some kind?” asked Jimmy.

“Absolutely.” Poe’s sparkling smile was back. “But first, our terms.”

“Shoot,” said Jimmy.

“Thirty percent.”

Clyde raised a brow, but Jimmy chuckled.

“You’re outta your damn mind,” he laughed. His laugh hid his frustration well, but not well enough. Clyde could feel it percolating the tenuous peace they’d just built, smothering all speech. Like oil covering water.

Poe shrugged, his smile receding, but still sticking.

"It's a fair price when you figure the risk. And the starting total."

Jimmy stared. His attention wasn't as obviously calculating as the woman Rose's, but he had a way of looking at a person that felt... _shrewd_. It wasn't the sort of look folk expected from a man like Jimmy, which was part of the reason it always seemed to unnerve people. A man like Jimmy wasn't 'sposed to be thoughtful.

Finally, he leaned forward, resting both hands on his knees.

"Go ahead, then. We're ready for the razzle-dazzle. _Poe_."

Poe laughed — what sounded like a real one. Out of the corner of his eye, Clyde saw Rey suppress a smile.

"You heard _Jimmy_ , Rose," Poe said. "How'd we come to the very fair price of thirty percent of the take?"

Both Clyde and Jimmy turned to the tiny woman. She was small enough that her feet skimmed the ground from her perch in the armchair.

"Reported annual revenue for the Charlotte Motor Speedway last year was $453.6 million. According to their books, actual revenue was accurate, even after the robbery — god bless the American insurance industry," she rolled her eyes, "$453.6 million averages out to roughly $8.7 million per week, but during Nascar, that number doubles. Judging by what was reportedly returned to the Speedway, we can reasonably calculate that you took home about twenty to twenty-five percent of that weekend. That's a little over $4 million, split four ways. Unevenly, of course — what was buried in Joe Bang's yard was probably more hush money than cut."

It took Clyde a moment to realize he'd parted his lips in surprise. He didn't need to look at Jimmy to know he was similarly struck.

"Of course," Rose continued, "this would simply be conjecture if all we had to go on was the Speedway's books. Of course, their C-suite cooked those a little to hide the actuals. Embarrassing thing, your little heist. But, again, insurance came to the rescue — the claim had the real total."

She grinned, and Clyde definitely felt — well, a little razzle-dazzled.

"Thirty percent of half of $4.4 million is perfectly reasonable," said Poe, clasping his hands together. "We wouldn't presume to take any more than what you two have. Leave your sister and the Bangs out of it."

"Where were you when we needed a computer whiz?" quipped Jimmy.

Rose's smile broadened, but she didn't answer. Next to her, the man called Finn frowned. Clyde studied him — he sat perfectly straight except for the arm dangling off of the side of his chair, almost reaching for Rose.

"If we agree to your plan," said Jimmy, "we can go 400. No more."

"We don't play stickball for less than 500, Jimbo," countered Poe, all cheek. Jimmy flinched at the nickname, but Clyde was still watching Finn. He recognized the man's tightly coiled energy; the air of quiet authority.

"Tell us why you brought a cop here and we'll agree to 500," interjected Clyde. He felt Rey's eyes snap to his face, but he didn't meet them. Finn stared back at him. Brother to brother.

"Ex-cop," he explained. "Chicago."

"Bomb squad?" Clyde asked, already knowing the answer.

Finn nodded.

"Y'all married?" Clyde asked, nodding toward Rose. He was surprised to see her blush and shake her head.

"Not yet," said Finn. This time, there was real inflection in his voice — he sounded both proud, and a little defensive.

"I think we just agreed on 500," said Poe.

"Hold your horses," called Jimmy, "500 is a lotta money for folks we don't know from Adam. Your girl here promised my brother real intel, and you hinted at as much. So far, he's guessed more right than you've said."

"You can have the essentials," placated Poe, "you pegged Finn. He's ops and security. And Rose, as you've seen, handles anything and everything tech-related. Anything to add, Twist?"

Poe looked at Rey, which gave Clyde a real excuse to. She was dressed the same as she'd been that morning; jeans and a snug t-shirt.

"Name is Rey," she said, addressing Jimmy. "Feet on the ground."

Jimmy nodded, looking between Rey and Clyde. The attention drove Clyde’s gaze away. Instead, he stared down at the mismatched hands in his lap.

"Satisfied?" Poe asked.

"What about you?" Jimmy returned, giving Poe another one of his shrewd stares. "You've taken point twice now."

"Just a poor kid from Guatemala," grinned Poe. "Who grew up to dismantle bureaucratic bullshit with a smile and a wink," he  _did_ wink, "for a price, of course. I often take point, but I'm no authority. We work as a team. That a problem, Jimbo?"

"Nope," Jimmy replied. He hit the  _p_ hard. "500, then. Assuming y'all's plan lives up to this dog and pony show you're puttin' on."

Clyde had no allusions; Jimmy wasn't really reassured. It didn't matter, though — the time spent seeing each of the Resistance's faces and the phone in his brother's pocket recording the entire exchange was enough insurance. For now.

Plus, it wasn't like they had any other options.

"Fantastic," Poe said, clapping his hands together. Again, the sound seemed to slap the silence, booming between the bookshelves.

"One more thing before we get started: we don't expect trust — how could we? — but we do expect promptness and professionalism. This is a business relationship. Sure, we could turn both of you or your accomplices into the authorities at any point — that much has been implied. Now you know it's fact. But we sought you out not just because you're in hot water, but also because we've done our research. You're good men. What you did, you did for the right reasons. We operate with standards, and you seem to fit ours."

His tone had shed its skin of smarminess, adopting something more serious.

"Clear?"

Both Logans nodded.

"We're all ears," said Clyde.

"That you are," said Poe, humor back in spades. Clyde glowered at him, determinedly avoiding Rey's eyes again.

"The plan is simple," continued Poe. It was his turn to lean forward, a gleam sparkling in his eye.

"We steal back the evidence Grayson's got on you. Without it, she doesn't have a case."

"Simple," agreed Jimmy, "but how d'you know what she's got?" He glanced at Clyde. Jimmy hadn't chastised him yet, but he could feel it building, now — like a flood, the words spilled forth.

"All she said was Clyde here donated money to the library, and she got wind of it."

Jimmy's eyes weren't accusatory, but exasperated. Clyde tried to feel abashed, but he couldn't. Not with the smell of books in his nose and Holdo's face in his mind's eye.

He looked away from Jimmy, back at his lap. He preferred this deficiency over the other one. Besides — he doubted these people believed in curses.

"Yes," said Rose, "Poe said we'd done our research, and it's true. Rey — " Clyde glanced at her, noticing her shoot Rose a scowl, " — followed the case after you two pulled the job, and we went from there. I hacked into Grayson's logs, and we used that to learn what we needed to know about what really went down."

"Someday, you'll have to tell us how you and Bang managed to get out — and somehow back  _in_ — to that jail," Rey said, looking at him. She smiled.

"I'd like to hear that one, too," added Finn.

"So you put two and two together," said Jimmy. "Smart. Grayson must've gotten close. Not close enough, though."

"She's careful. Meticulous," continued Rose, "but arrogant. When she couldn't get what she needed on you and the FBI called off the investigation, she turned to other means. We're not sure why she's become so obsessed, but it doesn't matter. Somehow, she got access to your phone, Clyde."

Clyde sighed, running his good hand through his hair.

"Yeah. Must've been that night she came into the bar."

"Just after we thought it was safe," said Jimmy, gaze drifting as he recalled the night in question, "didn't she hit on you, Clyde? All I remember is her making nice. That, and she was well-dressed for a drifter."

"More than I remember," Clyde mumbled. The back of his neck and ears burned again. "But yeah. She tried."

"Neither of you could've known she'd clone Clyde's phone," said Rey, voice firm.

"Rey's right," agreed Rose, "it doesn't take more than a few minutes to clone an application. All she needed was for you to turn your back long enough to do it; she wouldn't have even needed to touch it. She just had to get close enough."

"So what, you think she stole somethin' from one of his money apps?" asked Jimmy. He glanced toward Clyde again. They'd agreed not to put too much of the cash in the bank at once. For obvious reasons.

"No, not exactly. That wouldn’t have mattered, anyway, since you two were smart enough not to leave a true paper trail,” she shook her head, pensive, “no, she did something far more clever — she cloned your entire phone.”

“What’d she get off that?” Clyde asked.

“Aside from everything? From what I’ve been able to glean — usernames. Passwords. Conversations,” said Rose. “Enough to build a case for tax fraud around the donation you made, even if you made it anonymously. Your librarian — Holdo, right? — she thanked you for it in a text, and you responded in kind. Location services are enabled on your phone; she’s got the exact route you took when you made the donation in cash. She may need a few eyewitnesses to make it all nice and neat, but...

“And the name you used,” Rey cut in, “Ray Carver. Like the poet.”

Realization washed over Clyde like an ice bath, shocking his system. He sat up a little straighter, and the cold fingers of his prosthetic hand dug into the meat of his thigh.

“She’d have your library history, too. From the state app you use,” Rose finished.

Next to him, Jimmy sighed.

“It's mostly circumstantial stuff she can string together," said Rey. She looked at Jimmy now, eyes hard. "She could've probably done the same to you, even after you got that new phone. But she picked your brother."

Jimmy eyed her, then Clyde.

"I get it," he said. His hands twisted around a phantom beer.

"Thought I was the easier mark," Clyde muttered.

Something clawed its way up inside his chest, passing through his lungs, his throat. He wasn't sure what to make of it. It felt like shame.

"With this kind of stuff, you're both easy marks. If it hadn't been the donation, it would've been something else," said Poe.

"Legal fees, most likely," Rey added, still looking at Jimmy. He stared back, but she didn't shrink under his scrutiny.

"Let's move on," suggested Finn. "Rey and Poe are both right, and besides — we're past the point of blame. It isn't a productive use of our time."

"Hear hear," called Poe. He tipped his head toward Finn, grinning again. "Good man. To sum up: we know — vaguely — what Grayson's got on you. Now we just have to get it back."

He let the words sink into both Logan brothers; hooks reeling them in.

"How?" Clyde finally asked.

"We have a little more intel to gather," said Rose, "but it looks like— "

" —Another heist," interrupted Poe. "We think she'll stay close to town — all signs point to that, anyway. Which means she's probably working out of the Clarksburg office. We get in, we take what she's got, and that's that."

"That's that?" asked Jimmy. "You wanna get into a government building and steal back records she's probably keeping under lock and key?" He started to laugh.

"He's right. Clarksburg is all high-tech. Ain't no way." Clyde shook his head. "Plus, don't you think she's secured whatever she's got? Got copies?"

"It's a possibility," said Rose, "and you make a good point — if she's uploaded any of it to the Cloud, you're screwed. But from what we've observed— "

"From what Rose has hacked into," Poe interrupted.

" —she's doing this off the books. She's not supposed to be working this case. So there's a good chance she's keeping it  _all_ offline. That's what we need to find out."

"We won't solve this all tonight," said Poe. "We'll need to plan a lot more, stage by stage. We have ideas, but we'll need your know-how of the area in order to succeed in planning each step. Step one: we need to determine how Grayson is storing what she's got on you. Based on the files Rose has managed to access on her work computer and her personal laptop, our suspicion is that she's hoarding it all on a couple of flash drives. We'll need to confirm that, and where she's setting up shop."

"She gave you a deadline, right?" asked Rey. Clyde met her eyes. "Thirty days?"

He and Jimmy both nodded.

"Another thing we'll have to account for — the timeline," continued Poe. "It isn't much. We might be able to put her off a bit longer if we can figure out  _why_ she needs the time. Again, our best guess is she's marshaling witnesses. She may need to place one or both of you at certain locations in order to put forth solid info to the IRS."

"What about y'all?" Jimmy asked. He gazed at each of the Resistance in turn, eyes lingering on Poe.

"What do you mean?" asked Rose.

"Well, everythin' you said is well and good," explained Jimmy. "We can figure out ways to meet to plan how we'll get what we need on Grayson. She'll stick out in this county like a sore thumb, especially if she's goin' around askin' lots a questions. This community is small. Tight-knit." He paused. "But y'all are the same. You stick out."

Poe glanced at his team, brow furrowing in thought.

"You're right," he agreed. "We'll need cover stories for each of us. Cover stories that make sense for each of our parts in this."

"Where're you stayin' now?" asked Clyde.

"Park Ave," said Rey. She smiled a little again. "Wasn't hard to meet you."

The side of Clyde's mouth tipped up 'till he saw Rose looking at him again.

"You can't stay there much longer," said Jimmy. "You'll have to integrate into the community. Which means you'll probably have to split up."

"Agreed," said Poe. He looked at his team again, thoughtful. "All right. Let's figure this out. Who goes where?"  

  
\--  


When Clyde got home late that night, he was startled to see Mellie sitting on his doorstep. His siblings never seemed to want to wait inside.

"Clyde S. Logan," she growled, standing. "Where on earth have you and Jimmy been all day? I been texting you both! You had me scared half to death, and — "

At that moment, Rey slipped out of his Impala, and both women froze.

Clyde glanced between them.

"Hey, Mels. Uh, so...probably should catch you up on a coupla things…”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: That's the real reported [revenue](https://globenewswire.com/news-release/2018/03/07/1417415/0/en/Speedway-Motorsports-Reports-Results-for-Fourth-Quarter-and-Year-Ended-December-31-2017-and-Provides-Full-Year-2018-Guidance.html) from the Charlotte Motor Speedway in 2017. Yay press releases! And, uh, shitty math with a calculator.
> 
> Your feedback sustains my lifeforce, so please feel free to leave a comment or chat with me on Twitter or Tumblr @rebelrebelreylo!
> 
> Don't forget, I'd love any music recs for this fic! And finally, if you're enjoying this story and want to get email notifications when it's updated, please feel free to hit that Subscribe button. Thanks again, everyone! :D


	6. Prime Beef

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...she’s, uh, gonna pose as my ex-girlfriend. Come back. From… abroad.”
> 
> The world froze over for a second. The silence was like frost, creeping cold fingers up a windowpane in winter; icy and delicate and ready to _crack_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks so much for your comments; I appreciate the feedback so much. Also, thanks to everyone who gave amazing music recs in the comments last time! You were a huge help. <3
> 
> Slight Politics Trigger Warning! There is a mention of a real-life Virginia Governor (though of a different party this time) in this chapter and a reference to alleged sexual assault. If you'd prefer to avoid the mention, skip the section that starts with: _"I know that name,"_ and ends with _She let a tentative smile bloom across her face._ Thank you.
> 
> Another huge shout-out and thank you to my AMAZING beta and BFF, [LoveofEscapism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveofEscapism/pseuds/LoveofEscapism), for working with me on this chapter. ILU girl.
> 
> I also had some fun making this "GIF trailer" for this fic:

Years of conning people had taught Rey that you didn’t learn as much about them from reading a file as you did by meeting them face-to-face, though Rose often disagreed with her.

Sure, there were some people who jumped off of a page — people like Jimmy, for example.

 _Jimmy Logan, class of ‘04, former high school football star turned Home Depot manager_.

In a way, Clyde did, too — even more so than Jimmy.

_Clyde Logan, class of ‘06, Special Forces, honorable discharge turned bartender._

If you could dig into files the way Rose could, he practically pirouetted off of the page. Considering Clyde’s size — well, it was an _image_.

Moments into meeting both of them, Rey thought the few words ascribed to their characters fit like well-worn jackets.

But that was the problem. They were just words — they could be shed so easily. The real question was what was underneath, and you only gained that information from interaction.

That was why it was Rose’s job to build the foundation; to track down all the tiny details about people they either cast off or tried to hide in a sea of data. Poe teased the truth out of a person’s character through conversation (with a smirk), and Finn… Finn empathized with people, sometimes to a fault.

But Rey? She knew on instinct. It was like… a _snap_. She saw it in the way they moved; the way they spoke, where their eyes fell. She just _knew_ about people, like some sort of sixth sense she’d been gifted and couldn’t ever seem to shake.

She supposed trauma was worth something.

"Hey, Mels. Uh, so...probably should catch you up on a coupla things…”

Clyde’s sister — _Mellie Logan, class of ‘08, cheerleader turned hairdresser_ — was a strange cocktail.

Rey noticed it straight away. Pretty-faced but keen-eyed, Mellie ignored Clyde completely, sauntering straight up to Rey instead.

“I’m Mellie. You are?”

Not quite a smile; instead, a tiny upturn of her lips.

“This is — ” Clyde rumbled.

“Rey,” she interrupted, holding out her hand. Mellie took it, careful not to poke Rey’s palm with any of her perfectly manicured nails as they shook.

 _Sharp for sure_ , Rey thought.

“You two meet at the bar?” Mellie asked, eyes flickering between them. Rey could read the skepticism in them; a slow kernel ready to pop.

Clyde glanced at Rey.

“No, but… we should head inside. Outta earshot I’ll — I’ll explain everythin’.”

Mellie’s eyes narrowed, but obeyed, pivoting on a wedge heel to head toward Clyde’s front door.

Clyde paused before following, dark eyes searching her face. His gaze was penetrating in a way Rey wasn’t used to — it made her throat feel dry and her fingers fidgety. Still, she didn’t flinch away from the attention, and eventually, he ducked his head, gesturing for her to follow Mellie inside.

Clyde’s house was small. Not a trailer like he’d lived in before — at least according to the records she’d poured over — but still, small. One-story, maybe two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a kitchen, if she had to guess. Nothing wrong with small, and it had a lovely porch.

She focused on casing the layout instead of thinking that before long, she’d probably be invited to see the whole thing.

When she stepped inside after Mellie, she immediately entered the living room — clean, sparse, but comfortable. Good windows, but the night was shut away by curtains she’d bet Mellie helped hang when Clyde moved in. An antique lamp in the corner cast a cozy, golden glow over the whole space.

Rey’s eyes tracked her. She was already perched, long legs crossed, on a well-worn couch. Her eyes followed Rey as she took a seat next to her, mindful to keep a respectable amount of space between them and depositing her duffel and purse next to her.

Clyde shuffled in after them but didn’t sit, instead hovering on the other side of a well-crafted coffee table. Rey could see why — with the couch as the only viable spot, she didn’t imagine all 6 ‘3’ of him would want to squeeze in between his sister and her, a veritable stranger.

Mellie turned her eyes toward her brother, and Rey felt something shift in the air.

“So.”

Under his sister’s unbreaking gaze, Rey was impressed Clyde had spoken at all. It wasn’t… _heavy_ ; Mellie wasn’t what Rey would call imposing, but there was still this weight of responsibility that clung to Clyde’s shoulders as he stared down at her, a sibling who was smart enough to realize something was up.

Rey looked away. Her throat didn’t feel dry anymore; instead, it felt tight, and the itchiness in her fingers had shifted to behind her eyes.

She ignored it.

“Just tell me, Clyde,” Mellie implored. She glanced back at Rey, her gaze softening a fraction. “Sorry. I don’t wanna be rude but I know you’re not just some girl he brought home. This has got somethin’ to do with — ” She cut herself off.

“How?” Rey looked up, her curiosity getting the better of her. Of all the Logans, Mellie was easily the most enigmatic. So far.

Mellie looked at Rey like she was still trying to figure out what to make of her, but when she answered, the words were honest.

“Clyde doesn’t do things like that.”

“Mels,” Clyde interjected, lips pulled down in a frown. “It’s… you’re right, it’s not like that, but you gotta pretend like it is. Rey’s gonna be stayin’ here for a while because we’re… we want everyone _else_ to think it’s like that.”

He didn’t look at Rey while he spoke.

“You gotta tell me what’s really goin’ on here,” Mellie insisted. “I was just as much a part of it as you were.”

Clyde opened his mouth to speak, then shut it.

“She’s right,” Rey said, capitalizing on the break in the conversation. “She needs to be all in, Clyde. I know you want to protect her, and we do, too. But the only way to do that is to keep her in the know.”

She turned to Mellie.

“Clyde and Jimmy are on the hook with the FBI. An agent named Sarah Grayson has found evidence she can use to implicate them in the Speedway robbery. My friends and I are here to help.”

Rey expected her to balk at the news, but to her credit, she remained stoic. Meanwhile, Clyde said nothing. He didn’t even move.

“Why?”

Mellie’s question was clear, gaze steady.

“Why are we helping you?”

Mellie nodded, and Rey hesitated.

The sense was there, whispering in her ear. She decided to listen to it — she wouldn’t coddle Mellie. Honesty would win her more respect, and certainly more loyalty.

“Money.” She shrugged. “I’m a part of a group called The Resistance. We do — ”

“I know that name,” Mellie interrupted her. “Y’all exposed that Governor. The one from Virginia. Fairfax?”

Again, Rey paused before nodding, but she was rewarded when Mellie nodded back. Something thoughtful passed over her pretty face, drawing her sculpted eyebrows together.

“I saw that on the news,” she said. “It was just speculation, but one reporter said there was some kinda calling card on the leaked information, and both women that came forward hinted at some other evidence.”

“That _may_ have been us,” Rey said. She let a tentative smile bloom across her face.

“So, y’all are like activists,” Mellie mused, tapping cherry red nails on her couch arm. “I gotta say, seems a little strange for you to work with us, then.”

“We’ve worked with people like you before,” Rey explained. “When news of the heist broke and we figured out it was you lot, we started following the case. Victimless crimes only. The Speedway may have lost a little dignity, but not much else. The money was insured, and you and your family have funneled it back into the community.”

Mellie nodded slowly, eyes glazing over, considering. Rey glanced at Clyde. He’d barely breathed, but he _had_ shifted just enough that his prosthetic hand was half-behind his back, partially hidden from her eyes.

Mellie shook her head, then focused on Rey.

“So you want a cut. To make this FBI lady go away?”

“You got it,” Rey grinned. Mellie didn’t smile, but she did stand, hands migrating to her hips.

“And you thought you’d keep me in the dark on all this? You and Jimmy, I’m guessin’? You two, I swear… always when you need somethin’ but never when…”

She trailed off, the words falling into a low place where they could be muttered, but never heard. It didn’t matter — even Rey, an outsider, knew what they’d sound like.

Her smile melted into a frown, but she said nothing.

Something chimed. Both siblings glanced at Rey as she pulled her phone out of her pocket.

“Sorry,” she said. Clyde’s mouth twitched in an almost-smile, but it fell away as Mellie rounded on him again.

Rey swiped across the screen.

 

 **_Smells SUPER Sweet_ **  
_So… how’s it going? ;)_

 

Heat crept up Rey’s neck, forcing a flush into her cheeks as she skimmed Rose’s text. She was glad Clyde was focused on Mellie.

“This still doesn’t explain why she’s gotta stay here with you.”

That snagged Rey’s attention. The words shouldn’t have stung, but for some reason they still did. It was subtle, maybe even unintentional, but Rey heard it all the same in Mellie’s tone: _she._

“It’s part of the plan,” Clyde said. “Rey’s part of a team of four, and if they stay together, they’ll draw too much notice. So she’s, uh, gonna pose as my ex-girlfriend. Come back. From… abroad.”

The world froze over for a second. The silence was like frost, creeping cold fingers up a windowpane in winter; icy and delicate and ready to _crack_.

Mellie opened her mouth, then promptly shut it. Meanwhile, Clyde had avoided meeting either woman’s eye by staring at the ceiling while he spoke. His hand was clenched into a fist.

“I wanna be briefed on everythin’ here on out. The whole plan,” Mellie finally said. Each word was like a finger pointed at her older brother; punctuated, _pointed_.

Clyde eyed her, looking like he wanted to protest, but she beat him to the punch.

“I don’t care what Jimmy said, Clyde. When’re y’all meetin’ again?”

“Tomorrow night,” Clyde muttered. “We got some more… logistics to work out.”

Mellie rolled her eyes, then grabbed her purse where she’d left it on the floor in front of the couch.

“I’ll bet.”

She slung her purse over her shoulder.

“I’m goin’ home.” She glanced back at Rey, giving her another nod, then waltzed over to the front door.

“You’ll pick me up tomorrow on your way.”

It wasn’t a question. Clyde nodded.

“Good.”

And with that, she left, leaving the two of them very much alone.

Silence fell on them again, the way humidity bore down before a summer storm — catching and claustrophobic. Rey rattled out an anxious sigh, and Clyde pulsed where he stood.

“Sorry about her,” Clyde muttered, running his hand through his hair. He looked at the floor, then at her, then at the floor again.

“I didn’t say what I said for her benefit,” said Rey. “She _is_ safer if she’s up to speed. Besides, she’ll play her part.”

Clyde let out a noncommittal grunt, still staring at his shoes. The tiny break in the quiet had flickered and faded away, like a candle dying out. And now, again, silence.

“I — shit, I didn’t even offer you anything to drink — ”

Before she could say she was fine, he’d disappeared into the kitchen. She heard him opening cabinets, the fridge.

Rey looked down at the phone in her hands. Rose had texted her a few more times, but she’d been too busy watching Clyde and Mellie to notice.

 

**_Smells SUPER Sweet_ **

_The fact that you haven’t answered proves how right I was to suggest you and Clyde pair up_ 👀

**_Smells SUPER Sweet_ **

_Good thing you’ve got a big appetite because that dude is a_ 🥖🥗🍲🥩🥩🥩🥧

_(I put three cuts of Prime beef because that boi is HUGE)_

**_Smells SUPER Sweet_ **

_You like eggplant, right, Rey?_ 🤣😉🍆🍆🍆

 

Rey grimaced, typing a quick reply before Clyde came back.

 

_Nothing like that is happening and it never will. This is a JOB Rose. Bring the rest of my stuff tomorrow pls - can’t risk going back to the motel._

_Also you’re dead to me._

 

“I… didn’t know your drink.”

Rey looked up. Clyde was back with a few bottles tucked under his arm and another in his hand.

“Oh, I actually don’t — what’s that?” Rey asked, standing. He held the bottle out to her and she accepted it.

“Cheerwine.”

“Soda?”

He nodded, carefully setting the others down on the coffee table before he handed her the bottle.

“I remembered you had a sweet tooth.” His lips twitched again in that almost-smile of his, and Rey felt something squiggle in her stomach as she twisted off the bottle cap and raised it to her lips.

Rey took a sip. Sweet, tart cherry tickled her tongue, and she couldn’t help smacking her lips a little as her sip turned into a swig.

“Like it?”

Rey lowered the bottle slowly, staring.

Clyde had _dimples_.

“Yeah, it’s… really good,” she said, feeling flustered. He still hadn’t really _smiled_ at her, but it’d been the closest thing to it; lines etched into high cheekbones trying to hide behind a scruffy beard.

“Thanks,” she finished, raising the bottle toward him. He nodded, swiping his own from the table.

They stood there for a few more breaths, able to let the lull in conversation settle over them as Clyde took a pull.

Part of Rey felt caught in a strange cage of nerves she’d built for herself — she couldn’t stop picturing iron bars around everything she wanted to say to make this whole thing less awkward — but then she remembered she had no bloody _idea_ what she wanted to say.

What was wrong with her? She’d said it to Rose already; this was just a job. Clyde was just a client.

Nevermind that they’d have to pretend otherwise.

“It’s just an estimated timeline.”

Clyde lowered his bottle, and she continued, the words slipping out before she could really consider them.

“It may really be just thirty days, I mean. Once we get a better beat on what Grayson has, we might be able to throw a wrench in her plans. Though, that would mean…”

She trailed off, thumbing the label of her Cherrywine.

“What?” he asked.

“It… might mean you’re stuck with me for a while,” she finished.

He took another long drink, studying her. His eyes looked almost amber in the lamplight, gleaming with something soft.

“Least I can do,” he finally said.

Rey nodded — _again_ because she’d somehow lost all semblance of professionalism the second Rose had thrown her under the bus.

“Should I, uh, show you to where you’ll be stayin’?” Clyde asked. He’d finished his soda and kept tapping the empty bottle against his hip; a movement Rey found difficult to tear her eyes away from.

“Yes. Thank you,” she agreed. He nodded, then led her down a small hall trimmed in oak on the other side of the living room.

“Bathroom,” he muttered as they passed the first door, “and here’s you.” He stopped outside of the second door, then pushed it open. There wasn’t much inside — a full-sized bed, a dresser, a desk. Rey’s brow furrowed in surprise at the room’s pale pink shade.

“It’s lucky my niece, Sadie, stays here now and again,” Clyde explained, “otherwise not sure you’d have a bed.”

“Did you paint it for her?” Rey asked.

His hair did a good job of hiding it, but Rey was close enough to see the same shade of pink tint Clyde’s ears at her question.

“Yup,” he admitted, sweeping more hair out of his face. “When I bought the house. We did it together.”

“I feel bad I’m taking her room,” Rey chuckled, stepping inside.

“She’s not here that much. She lives at her mom’s most often, and then Jimmy, and then Mels,” said Clyde, leaning against the doorframe. Rey tried not to focus on how he took up the whole thing.

“Still, I’m sure she likes having her own place here,” she offered. Clyde shrugged, but his lips twitched again, too.

“Let me grab your things for you — and some towels. Just a moment.”

His large frame disappeared from the doorway, and Rey sidestepped the bed, also outfitted in petal pink. Just then, her phone chimed again.

 

**_Smells SUPER Sweet_ **

_Sure, Snickers. We’ll see if I’m resurrected by the time you need help using a Mac._

 

A wry smile twisted Rey’s lips. Staying angry with Rose was practically impossible, but she’d try. For tonight, at least.

Clyde came back with her duffel, purse, and a stack of towels under his arm, setting each neatly on the bed for her. Rey wondered if he didn’t carry things with his prosthetic because it was more difficult, or because he didn’t want people to notice it was there.

“Well, I guess this is… uh, good night,” he said, voice low. “Do you need anything else?”

“No, I think I’m good,” she said, glancing up at him on the other side of the bed. “Just… we’ll spend time tomorrow getting our cover story straight, yeah? And go over the, er, ground rules.”

He nodded and looked at her the same way he’d done all night — contemplative, and so _deep_. Like he could dive into her eyes, or she was some sort of secret of the universe he could unravel.

_Just. A. Job._

“I’ll burn the bacon. G’night, Rey. And thanks.”

She inclined her head, and he left. She heard him shuffle further down the hall to what had to be his room and then, more silence.

As she changed and climbed into bed, she took stock of where she was and what she had: she’d slept in far worse places, and she’d helped far worse people. Mellie was smart to be skeptical, but she and her friends would do this job and do it well. No strings attached.

Still, she wished she’d returned the good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the tags are officially updated to include fake dating! These two, I swear. I wish I could make them do it faster, but alas, they're shy. And awkward. Not sure I'm capable of writing them any other way, haha. ;)
> 
> Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear any feedback in a comment or feel free to share your thoughts on [Tumblr](http://rebelrebelreylo.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/rebelrebelreylo) @rebelrebelreylo.
> 
> Finally, if you're enjoying this story and want to get email notifications when it's updated, please feel free to hit that Subscribe button! Thanks again, everyone. :)


	7. I Wanna Hold Your Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Can I hold your hand?”
> 
> Clyde drew in a breath so sharp he was sure it punctured his lungs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks so much for all of your support and comments; it truly keeps me going and I appreciate it so much! This chapter is a bit longer than usual, so I hope you like it!
> 
> Another huge shout-out and thank you to my AMAZING beta and BFF, [LoveofEscapism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveofEscapism/pseuds/LoveofEscapism), for her amazingness; be sure to check out her work. ❤️you girl!
> 
> I also had some more fun making another GIF trailer/moodboard/aesthetic or whatever you want to call it for this fic:

When Clyde woke the morning after Rey moved in, it was still dark outside.

He didn’t usually rise so early, but after hours of tossing and turning, he dragged himself out of bed. He wasn’t about to get any more sleep. And, this way, he could get an early start on breakfast.

He crept down the hall on feet lighter than most would expect for a man his size, heading toward the only bathroom. As he passed Rey’s door, he forced himself not to hesitate.

By the time he’d emerged from his shower, the sun was just starting to color the sky gold and pink — he could see a sliver peeking out from underneath the curtains in his living room.

He didn’t think about how the morning would be stretching into the room down the hall, the light washing over the blush shade of the walls; the blush of Rey’s cheeks as she slept.

He took a scalding sip of his coffee. Steaming mug in hand, he headed outside to watch it wake.

When he’d first moved into the little house in the woods, he hadn’t cared much about what the house had apart from a foundation. After the Speedway, he and Jimmy had agreed — ahead of them, only solid ground.

Mellie was the one who’d helped him move in and make an empty house into some semblance of a home. She’d hung curtains and photos; she’d insisted he build or buy decent furniture, including his always-growing bookshelf, and she’d had the idea of inviting Sadie to paint her own room. Clyde let her. He was grateful; she always thought of things he didn’t. Of the three of them, sometimes he thought Mellie saw things the clearest.

With all Mellie had done to the place, there’d been one thing Clyde had taken the trouble to add to the house on his own — the porch swing.

He’d built it himself, painstakingly so. Made of maple and tree of heaven — both of which guarded the little house like sentinels — it was sturdy and creaked just right in the breeze.

It creaked when he sat on it now, like a wise-cracking groan from a woman long gone to God.

The sun had crested the little bit of Sleepy Creek Lake that seeped into his neck of the woods; no more than a cove, really, but he liked to watch the light creep higher and higher above the blue water, sparkling across the surface.

It was the quiet he liked, living here.

Clyde didn’t hate cities, not like some other folk ‘round here. He’d seen his fair few of ‘em. Little ones, big ones. And while he could see the appeal — they were teeming with life, with hustle and bustle and people and things to see and do — he just didn’t care for how _loud_ they were.

Too much of his life had been noisy already.

Funnily enough, just then he heard it; the swift _swish_ of the front door opening.

He turned to see Rey padding over, barefoot and bare-legged, holding her own mug. He tried not to let his eyes linger on how short her pajama bottoms were. Unfortunately, the rest of her was just as distracting; her top was overlarge, showing clavicle and a hint of cleavage, and her sleep-tousled hair hung around a face that shouldn’t have looked so pretty this early.

“Morning,” she said, rubbing the sleep out of her eye.

How was it that the sleeve of her shirt was so long it went past her wrist, but her shorts skimmed so little thigh?

He swallowed, then took another sip of his coffee.

“Mornin’,” he replied, making to stand.

“Don’t get up,” she insisted, taking a seat next to him. She didn’t sit too close — she left a few inches between them — but she didn’t sit as far away as she could.

That was good. If anyone was watching them, it’d look like they’d done this before. Ever. At all.

“Meant to have breakfast ready before you woke,” he explained. “Coulda got you a cup of coffee at least.”

“I found it all right,” she smiled, raising her mug. He inclined his head, watching her take a sip out of the corner of his eye.

“That’s good,” she continued. “ _Really_ good.”

“Buy the beans direct from Park Ave.”

“Clever,” Rey complimented him. She brought her thigh to her chest, wrapping an arm around her knee, and the movement forced her closer; the skin of her calf grazing his prosthetic hand.

Without thinking, he pulled the hand onto his lap, not looking at her.

“Hungry?” he asked.

She paused.

“It’s really beautiful here,” she said, staring out at the little bit of lake; the trees swaying in the early morning breeze. “Is that why you picked this place?”

He cleared his throat. If he hadn’t been holding his coffee in his good hand, he would’ve run it through his hair. Instead, he gripped his cup tighter, standing and staring down at her.

“Sure. You want your bacon cooked, uh, the regular way?”

She smiled.

“I’ll try it your way.”

 

— — —   

 

He’d expected Rey to keep enjoying the view while he fixed breakfast, but she followed him inside after a few minutes, watching him as he worked. They didn’t speak much — he kept his eyes on the stove; burning bacon just right was a _process_. One that didn’t exactly encourage conversation.

By the time they both sat with heaping plates of food in front of them at the kitchen table, Rey seemed done with silence. In fact, she looked as anxious as he felt, all toe-tapping and fidgety fingers as she pushed her food around her plate.

“Look, I… know this must be awkward for you, but I just want you to know, I’m a professional,” she started, twirling her fork in between her fingers. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so we might as well lay down some ground rules.”

Clyde finished chewing his eggs, studying her.

“You done this before?”

Rey’s fork stopped twirling, and heat crawled up the back of Clyde’s neck, scratching and spitting how stupid he was in his ear.

“No, not… not this. It’s not a particularly common cover in our line of work,” she admitted, staring down at her plate. Clyde set down his own knife and fork. The clatter of cutlery on cedar sounded like a cacophony in the small space.

“Rey…” he hesitated, “If this makes _you_ uncomfortable, I don’t wanna — ”

Rey interrupted him with a laugh, and he stilled, a smile threatening to steal away his lips as he watched her crack a grin.

“Listen to us — both so determined to be polite and breeze past the awkwardness,” she chuckled. “But the truth is, we won’t be able to. You know that, right?”

He shrugged, still looking at her. He wasn’t sure it was possible to blink when looking at her. He certainly didn’t want to.

“Guess not.”

Her smile softened.

“Good. So we’re agreed, then? Embrace the awkward?”

She raised her fork in salute, eggs and all, and he responded with his coffee mug.

“‘Till it ain’t awkward anymore. We hope.”

She laughed again, and he let the smile spread across his face.

“All right, so. Incoming awkward question… what _are_ you comfortable with?” she asked, cheeks slightly pink. He would’ve reveled in that a little bit if he couldn’t still feel how hot the back of his neck was.

He gave her a noncommittal _hum_ coupled with a shrug.

“I guess I should ask, I mean, what would you do with a real girlfriend around town?” Rey continued, “Jimmy made a good point last night — since we’ve already been seen together in public once, the rumor mill’s bound to have started.”

“That’s true,” he agreed, glancing away from her. He was ten thousand degrees; there was no way his entire face wasn’t as red as Mellie’s Chevy. Swallowing, he forced himself to meet her gaze. “I’d say, uh, well, I don’t really… know. Haven’t been with someone like that in a long time.”

He expected her to flinch, or look away, or even look pitying, but she kept her soft little smile. A companionable one.

“Me either,” she shrugged. “So, we’ll be on the same page, I think.”  

“Lucky,” he murmured. The word slipped out before he could stop it, and even though there was no way Rey had any idea just what that one word meant for Clyde, he thought he could still see a flicker of recognition pass over her face; catch in her eyes.

“Can I hold your hand?”

Clyde drew in a breath so sharp he was sure it punctured his lungs.

“I mean,” Rey stammered slightly. “When we’re out, I think that’d be an easy way to show affection without going, well, overboard. If you’re okay with it.”

He nodded.

“Sure,” he agreed, “I only got the one, but… sure.”

“Hand-holding approved,” she said it like she was ticking something off of a mental list, but her blush hadn’t disappeared, either. She didn’t comment on his hand, but had he really expected her to? “If you’re okay with that, then I think general, um, light touching? For lack of a better word… might be something we should consider.”

He stared for a second, then remembered his promise to attempt to overcome the awkwardness of this entire situation.

“You’ll have to explain what you mean by that.”

“Like… I don’t know, arms around each other’s shoulders or hips, that sort of thing.”

He admired the way she just _said_ the thing she was thinking, even if it clearly made _her_ uncomfortable. Something like shame caught in his chest again; he could feel it trying to claw its way up his throat, but he didn’t let it. He pushed it down, sucking in air through his nose.

Rey was right. He ‘sposed it was good at least one of them was being professional about this whole thing.

“Sounds fine,” he agreed, voice even.

“Okay,” she said, glancing down at her plate again. She’d barely touched her food. “So, then, I think that just leaves, um, kissing.”

“You think we’ll need to kiss in public?” he asked far too fast.

“I mean, maybe not,” Rey reassured him, seemingly taking his response as discomfort. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not. “But I want us to be… prepared, I guess. I think we feel it out. Only if it feels… necessary, and only a peck. Nothing more than that.”

Clyde didn’t trust his own mouth much anymore, so he just nodded this time.

Rey gave him a tentative little half-smile, her fork still dangling.

“Awkwardness over. At least for now.”

Clyde managed a small smile back.

“Your eggs are gettin’ cold.”

“Oh! You’re right, I’m sorry,” she said, taking a bite. His smile grew like a weed across his face as she sighed in satisfaction.

“Wow,” she murmured through a second mouthful, “that’s delicious. How’d you manage to make something as simple as scrambled eggs so good?”

Clyde shrugged.

“Butter to start, then mix in cream cheese along with the cheddar. Season well.”

Rey groaned softly before she bit into her bacon.

“That’s genius,” she continued, “and I quite like the bacon, too. If this is how you always cook…”

It was Clyde’s turn to chuckle.

“‘S’not much, I promise you.”

“All I know is I don’t want to stop eating it,” she replied. “I have a feeling that living with you won’t be good for my waistline — I’ll have to work on my willpower if the food is always this amazing.”

“I’ll make you whatever you like.”

Rey lowered her toast, and he felt like he was soaking in her smile now; like a balm to a wound, or sinking into a hot bath.

“I’m teasing you again, Clyde.”

He shrugged again, returning the gesture, but he didn’t let himself wonder if this was the most he’d grinned in years.

He already knew it was.

 

— — —

 

“I’m bored.”

“Oh my god, Poe. Shut. _Up_.”

“What? I hate stakeouts. Because they’re boring.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a professional?”

“I _am_ a professional.”

“You could’ve fooled — ”

“Don’t rise to the bait, Rose,” interjected Finn.

Poe did this anytime he joined them on a stakeout. He was a wanderer; flighty, _fast_ in every way imaginable. He flitted between things like a hummingbird, singing different songs to anyone that would listen. He didn’t often do well in small spaces unless he got to _move_ — like in a race car. Or a cockpit.  

Too bad for him they were snug as sardines in a tin can. The best thing they were able to rent was a beat-up old Ford pickup.

“We’ve only been here an hour and a half,” Finn continued, eyeing Poe in the passenger seat. “At least you get to sit up front. I don’t know if I’ll have the use of my legs after today with how packed in I am back here.”

Poe chuckled, but Rose ignored them both. She was focused on peering through her binoculars at the building across the street.

“Good thing you’re not one of the Logans, eh Finn? Especially Clyde,” Poe whistled, then winked. “That guy’s a _tree_. Twist’ll have her hands full. Literally.”

Rose snorted into her binoculars, but Finn frowned.

“Good thing Rey is more professional than you,” Finn quipped. Poe sighed, extending a hand toward the backseat in an effort to stroke the side of Finn’s face, but Finn had dodged the move enough times by now that he barely noticed.

“So young. So innocent. Rose, how do you manage to love a man so sweet and naive?”

Rose adjusted her binoculars, deft hands twisting just a smidge.

“I love him _because_ he’s sweet and naive, Poe.”

Poe beamed, clapping a hand on Finn’s shoulder.

“Good point. Me too.”

Finn groaned, shrugging off Poe’s hand. Still, he grinned, too.

“Do you two really think something’ll happen with Rey and Clyde?”

Poe barked out a laugh.

“Oh, _definitely_. Didn’t you see the way they kept looking at each other? Or catch on to Rose’s  _brilliant_ idea?”

Finn didn’t need to see all of Rose’s face to see the shadow of a smirk curl the side of her mouth.

“You did that on purpose?”

“‘Course I did,” she muttered, adjusting the binoculars again. “It’s about time Rey gets a little something good. Even if it’s just temporary.”

“It was  _brilliant_ ,” Poe reiterated. “Fits the plan perfectly, and gives those two an opportunity to do the horizontal mambo. I’m jealous.”

“I doubt Clyde or _Jimbo_ do that dance with other guys. Sorry, buddy,” Finn said.

“Bet I could take his sister Mellie for a spin, though,” Poe winked again.

“You’re relentless.”

“You’re welcome.”

Finn shook his head as Poe checked his watch, knee bobbing as he fidgeted in his seat.  

“We can’t stay too much longer if we’re gonna make tonight’s meetup,” he pointed out. “And it’s hot as ba — ”

“ _Shh_.” Rose threw out a hand, nearly slapping Poe across the chest. “I see her.”

Like a clap in a quiet room, both Poe and Finn sat up straight; rigid, alert. Finn hovered over Rose’s shoulder, squinting at what only she could see in the distant parking lot of the FBI’s CJIS building.

“You sure it’s her?”

“Positive,” Rose smiled, finally lowering the binoculars. “We got her.”

 

— — —

 

Despite having driven his last car into a convenience store and having only one hand, Clyde was a good driver. He was no Mellie — and he didn’t wanna be, either — but he knew how to handle his Impala just fine.

It was a good thing, too, because today he was having trouble keeping his eyes on the road.

Rey was laughing.

He wasn’t sure _how_ he kept making her laugh, but he was, and it was hard not to look at her when she did. That smile of hers made it damn near impossible.

After breakfast, she’d suggested heading into town. They wouldn’t be meeting the others ‘till later, and she needed a few things from the store, even with the rest Rose would bring for her later that evening.

Clyde agreed if only to get out of the house. He’d lived with people before, but never any women apart from his mother and Mellie, and they didn’t count. He had no idea what to do with himself with Rey around; no clue how to keep her entertained until they both went to work — him at Duck Tape, and her…

For now, he’d settle on tryin’ to get to know her better. To sell the whole fake love story. It was the sensible thing to do.

“No way. That’s like… out of a movie or something.”

“I swear on Sadie’s smile,” he chuckled, glancing at her. The stifling August heat meant she’d rolled down her window, and the wind had torn tendrils from her topknot; wisps that framed her face. She’d flung a naked arm out of the window, too, and her long legs were still bare beneath her skirt. Bare to the sun. Bare to his eyes.

He gulped as she grinned back, shaking her head in disbelief.

“A prison revolt where the inmates demand  _The Winds of Winter?_ If only George R.R. Martin heard of it, maybe we’d have the next book already.”

“Maybe,” Clyde chuckled, taking a slow turn into Danville proper. “Not sure it would’ve mattered, though. We might have to settle for seeing winter come on TV.”

“You’re probably right,” Rey agreed. They grew quiet for the few minutes it took Clyde to pull into the local Rite-Aid, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one.

“This all right?” he asked as he put the Impala in park.

“Perfect,” she replied, unbuckling her seatbelt.

He considered opening her door for her, but by the time the thought crossed his mind, she was already outside and making her way to his.

He thrust his door open and spilled out of the car, feeling too big for his own body before he straightened up. Rey drew close. If he hadn’t been hyper-aware of her body before, he was now — her shoulder brushed his side. It barely came up to his ribs.

“You know anybody working today?” Rey kept her voice low. He shrugged, looking down at her. She seemed so much smaller this close.

“Probably.”

She nodded, then slid her hand around his wrist. He nearly jumped out of his skin, but then opened his hand for her, letting her intertwine her small fingers with his.

“Anyone like our friend Annie at Park Ave?”

Her hand was warm. He nodded.

“Perfect.”

 

— — —

 

Rey hummed while she shopped.

She’d let go of his hand once they made it past the front counter and down the first aisle of ladies things, but he was careful to keep close to her.

He couldn’t help thinking he was like a kind of hulking shadow hovering over her shoulder, ungainly and in the way. Or like a beast in a fairytale, waiting to steal away the pretty Princess who sang songs with birds and deer and other forest creatures. Either way, he felt out of place next to her.

She had a nice voice like one of those movie Princesses, too. He wanted to ask her where she learned to sing like that, but he decided to wait ‘till he could be sure they were alone.

“I think that’s all I need,” she said, tossing hair conditioner into her basket and meeting his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

“Shit, that you, Logan?”

Reluctantly, Clyde turned around. Behind them stood one of his regulars at the bar; a sandy-haired man named Beau Abbot. Clyde poured the man’s drinks, but he’d never warmed to him much. He was one of Jimmy’s old football friends from high school; one of the ones who’d worshipped Jimmy and made their affiliation known… ‘Till Jimmy blew his knee out.

Plus, he’d never liked the way he leered at Mellie when she came into the bar for a nightcap.

“Never seen you with a lady before. ‘Cept your pretty sister, of course.”

Beau’s eyes swept over Rey. Clyde didn’t like that either.

“I’m Rey,” she introduced herself. As she held out a hand to shake, she wrapped her other arm around Clyde’s waist, snuggling into his side.

Beau raised his eyebrows, and their clasping of hands was brief.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, inclining his head. “How’d y’all meet? Service?”

Clyde worked his jaw. He didn’t let panic set in; he knew how to wall it off, even when he felt it pulsing.

“Yup,” Rey said, popping the ‘p’ extra hard. “Years back. I’m in town for a while.”

“Can’t imagine you been to West Virginia before,” Beau said. “Not with an accent like that.”

“First time.”

“Ooo, welcome then!” Beau brimmed with something like Poe’s smarm, but it was a lot less charming. “Did Clyde here tell you what his ol’ nickname ‘round town was? Before he served?”

Clyde glowered at him, but he pressed on, eyes still fixed on Rey. His gaze kept sweeping over the length of her. The guy had never been subtle.

“Dumbo! On account of those big ears of his!”

Beau finally met Clyde’s eyes, then shrank back like a whipped dog. Clyde hadn’t even moved, but the face he wore now wasn’t the one that belonged to Jimmy’s kid brother. Instead, the hard lines of a soldier had set in.

“Just messin’, Clyde,” he added, rocking backward on his heels. Hands coated in grime from the chemical plant — where Beau worked, where so many of Boone’s men worked to make ends meet — found their way into his pockets.

“I bet Rey here likes ‘em.” He nodded at Rey, whose hand snaked its way up Clyde’s shoulder and cupped his neck; traced the shell of his ear.

His entire spine tingled.

“I do,” she murmured, smiling.

Beau’s eyebrows rose so high they disappeared into his hat. Rey let her hand slide back down to Clyde’s middle, and said no more. Beau cleared his throat, turning back to Clyde.

“How’s the family then? How’s Mellie?”

“Fine.”

Beau scratched his sandy head.

“Glad to hear that. Listen, uh, good to see you outside of the bar, but I gotta head back — just grabbing a quick coupla things on my lunch. Nice to meet you, Rey. You two have a good day.”

He raised a hand in salute, then turned away, moving quickly to the checkout counter. Clyde didn’t look down at Rey again until he’d left the store.

“Ready?”

She nodded, slipping away from his side, and suddenly he wished Beau Abbot was still there mouthing off about his ears.

 

— — —

 

True to his word (and wary of his sister’s wrath), Clyde pulled up in front of Mellie’s house at ten till the hour they’d agreed to meet the others that afternoon. Next to him, Rey made to clamber out of the car as he did, but he motioned for her to stay.

“Only’ll be a minute.”

“Shouldn’t I move to the back?”

“Not if you wanna keep people thinkin’ we’re sweet on each other,” he murmured. Tentatively, he reached out and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. It was so _tiny_ in his palm.

Perhaps more amazing, she didn’t just let him — she smiled at him again as he did it.

People in Boone often assumed Clyde couldn’t string two words together because he didn’t say much, but he wasn’t that simple-minded. Lord, it hadn’t even been a full _day_ — he knew this was all an act. He knew he shouldn’t get used to Rey’s small hands or sweet laugh or sunny smile. He knew he shouldn’t bask in her attention so much.

He knew all that and he was doing it anyway.

Maybe he _was_ simple-minded. Just like Joe Bang said.

“Clyde?”

He shook his head. He was still holding Rey’s hand, so he dropped it.

“Sorry, just a ‘mo. Be right back.”

Mellie’s front door banged open as he circled the car, and she emerged, dressed in a flowery dress.

He opened his mouth to greet her, but snapped it shut when he saw her face. She still looked — well, not pleased. Thankfully, she smiled at Rey when she saw her, and scooted into the back of the car without complaint.

The drive to the library was short from Mellie’s. Being a Sunday, they’d have it to themselves again when they met the others.

“Hot today,” Clyde said. “We got a little time, we could stop for a cone on our way over — ”

“You think Jimmy’ll get there early?” Mellie interrupted. Clyde paused, gaze flickering to his rearview mirror. Mellie met his eyes there, blazing blue to brown.

“Most likely.”

“No time, then.”

“Mellie, I don’t think — ”

“Don’t start, Clyde. I know you would’ve told me ‘bout all this sooner if it weren’t for him.”

Clyde bit his lip, trying to think on what to say — she was right, he would’ve — but Rey interjected just at that moment, glancing down at her phone.

“Mellie’s right; Rose just texted me — they’re all there already anyway.”

They rode in silence the few more minutes it took to get there. When they pulled into the back lot, they saw Jimmy standing, arms crossed and squinting under the hot sun, next to his truck. Meanwhile, Rose, Finn, and Poe had all taken refuge under the shade of a large sycamore.

Clyde didn’t even manage to park the car before Mellie flew out the door and stalked up to her older brother, heels and all.

“James Brooks Logan, don’t think I don’t — ”

Poe’s appreciative whistle stopped the tirade before it could gain steam. At first, no one realized he’d been the one to make the noise — ‘till he sauntered toward her, starry-eyed and spewing a stream of Spanish endearments.

And then, Mellie _smiled_.

“Who’s this guy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, a bit longer than usual, so I'm anxious to hear what you think... oh, and here's more [info](https://www.fbi.gov/services/cjis) on the FBI CJIS building in WV, if you're interested. It will factor quite a bit in this story!
> 
> Clyde's [house](https://unsplash.com/photos/Vi9RqdN5GbQ).
> 
> Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear any feedback in a comment or feel free to share your thoughts on [Tumblr](http://rebelrebelreylo.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/rebelrebelreylo) @rebelrebelreylo.
> 
> Finally, if you're enjoying this story and want to get email notifications when it's updated, please feel free to hit that Subscribe button! Thanks again, everyone. :)


	8. Logan Lucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, you two settle on your love story?” Poe’s eyes still sparkled with laughter, but Clyde didn’t share in it. For what felt like the billionth time that day, his ears burned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW Y'ALL ARE CELEBRATING LEGIT REYLO AND SWCC AND JUST THE GENERAL MAYHEM AND SPLENDOR OF TODAY BUT I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF, MY REYLO HYPE MADE ME DO THIS, READ WHENEVER MAN I AM ON CLOUD CITY WHERE THE RISE OF SKYWALKER LIVES IN REYLO IS CANON BLISS
> 
> Another huge shout-out and thank you to my AMAZING beta and BFF, [LoveofEscapism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveofEscapism/pseuds/LoveofEscapism), for her amazingness; be sure to check out her work. ❤️you girl!
> 
> ALSO, THANK YOU TO THE MOST AMAZING WRITER, FRIEND, AND HUMAN, [DALZO](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dalzo/works), FOR COMMISSIONING THIS AMAZING PIECE OF ART FOR THIS STORY BY THE INCOMPARABLE [SPIEGATRIX LESTRANGE](https://spiegatrixlestrange.tumblr.com/)! For real, check out their works and art, YOU WON'T REGRET IT.
> 
> ALSO, BECAUSE I HAVE AMAZING FRIENDS IN THIS FANDOM, ANOTHER HUGE THANK YOU TO ANOTHER AWESOME WRITER, FRIEND, AND HUMAN, [Commander Crouton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/commandercrouton/pseuds/commandercrouton), for making this awesome moodboard for this fic! Don't forget to check out her work as well!
> 
> (ALSO I AM SO SORRY I WILL FIX FORMATTING ERRORS LATER)

“Who’s this guy?”

Poe flashed Mellie a grin Clyde would’ve liked to call shit-eating, but it was too charming.

“Name’s Poe,” he smarmed, inching closer to her. Clyde frowned when he offered her his hand and she actually took it.

“Well ain’t you somethin’,” Mellie chuckled, “Like a dog without a bone.” 

Poe shrugged, then raised her hand to his lips, still smiling that broad smile of his. Clyde’s frown deepened and didn’t dissipate, even after Poe finally let Mellie go. 

“Alright, alright, let’s head inside already.”

Jimmy’s words came out strange; relief and something sharp coating each syllable. But blunt teeth still hurt when they bit.

Clyde’s eyes flickered up to his older brother, and he could tell he’d missed the storm that must’ve passed over his face at seeing Poe flirt so brazenly with his baby sister. Still, Jimmy was no fool — he knew that Poe’s distraction was certainly better than the tempest Mellie would’ve raged if he hadn’t interrupted. 

Something of the tempest still seemed to be brewing in Mellie’s eyes as she turned them to Jimmy, but she didn’t argue; instead, she just marched through the back door of the library, Poe hot on her heels.

Clyde glanced at Rey, who just shrugged before the rest of their motley crew followed them inside.

Sometimes Clyde thought his sister possessed magical powers. For all she said she didn’t believe in curses or hoodoo or anything of the like, she  _ always _ knew more than he thought any reasonable person could. 

The thought flitted through his head as she led the way to the circle of armchairs they’d settled in the other two times they’d come here to talk; despite never having been part of the plan before now. Somehow, she even seemed to sense that everyone already had their own spot, because she chose to perch atop the front desk, legs crossed and casually hovering over everyone else like a hawk.

“Why don’t the rest of y’all introduce yourselves?” she drawled as they filtered in, taking their seats. “I know Rey already, and now Poe. You two are?” Her eyes fell on Finn and Rose.

“Name’s Finn,” he answered, smiling and waving as he sat. “And this is Rose.”

The grin on Rose’s face was  _ definitely _ shit-eating.

“Nice to meet you,” she replied, looking back and forth between Mellie and Poe, who’d turned his whole body towards the former — like supplicating himself before some kind of deity. He’d taken Clyde’s seat from last time, which meant he and Rey were now next to each other.

Pleasure and protectiveness warred with each other inside Clyde ‘till he decided both were pointless. He cleared his throat.

“You’re pretty much up to speed, Mels — ”

“I doubt that,” she remarked coolly. “But I’m here now. Let’s just get to business. I got clients to get back to later tonight.”

“Clients?” Jimmy asked. “Who’s hair you cuttin’ on a Sunday evenin’?”

“None of your beeswax.” 

She didn’t even  _ look _ at him. 

A tempest was still brewing, all right. With a capital T for trouble.

“Much as I’m enjoying the family drama,” Poe started, still staring at Mellie’s bare legs more than Clyde thought was necessary, “Mellie’s right. We’ve got news. Rose?”

“We made it out to CJIS,” Rose said, “And we spotted her.”

“Grayson?” asked Rey.

“Yup,” said Rose, nodding. She held up her phone, flashing a grainy photo of their target. “So we were right; seems she’s working out of Clarksburg. Which means we’ve got our next steps.”

“We do?” Jimmy asked, attention moving from Mellie to her.

“Yes,” interjected Finn. “Knowing what we know now, the way forward is clear: we need to hack our way in.”

“I thought you already did that?” asked Clyde.

“Yes and no,” Rose clarified. “We hacked into a few FBI files and some of Grayson’s personal stash. You can’t imagine all the layers of security different branches of the government has — they’re laxer than one might expect, almost laughably so compared to some countries, but that doesn’t mean once you’re in, you’re in completely. The real security comes in diversification between departments, branches, etc. With Grayson moving her base of operations out here instead of D.C. — probably to keep close to you two — we’ll need to penetrate further. A  _ lot _ further.”

Clyde and Jimmy shared a look, but it was Mellie who spoke.

“Do tell.”

Before Rose could answer, Rey piped up, drawing Clyde’s gaze. Even with everyone else around, it was hard to look away from her while her brow was furrowed and she’d bitten her bottom lip like that. 

He swallowed. He’d need a drink after this. 

Especially since she’d be joining him.

“You’re thinking infiltration?”

“Yup,” confirmed Poe. “We got our covers worked out, though we may need to head back to D.C. for a few days. We’ve been careful while we’ve been here, but we’d need to cover a few tracks first to make everything kosher.”

“Mind explaining for the rest of the kids in the class?” Jimmy asked.

“Sure thing,  _ Jimbo _ ,” he said, smirking, “Rose hacks into CJIS. She doesn’t get caught, per se, but she leaves a trail. A trail that forces the Feds to bring in a certain security consultant they’ve contracted once or twice before, if you catch my drift.”

Clyde and Jimmy both looked at Rose, who waved as well as any Miss USA they’d ever seen.

“You’ve  _ contracted _ for them before?”

“Oh yeah,” said Rose, grinning cheekily. “Keep your enemies close and all that. Well,  _ enemy _ is a bit strong. Without getting into too many details, I have a few different aliases in the intelligence community, particularly online. We all do. Don’t tell me you’re surprised — I read all of Grayson’s files on you two. You know misdirection is the key to not getting caught.”

The brothers shared another look.

“Good point,” Jimmy amended. 

“Misdirection and playing on people’s preconceived perceptions of us is how we win,” continued Poe, surprisingly serious. “When they see any of us, they see someone very specific — someone with… limitations.”

Clyde glanced at Rey. She nodded as Poe spoke.   

“Smart,” said Mellie, crossing arms across her chest. Her eyes lingered on Poe like he was a puzzle missing a piece.

“It’s essential for our survival,” said Rey. Her fingers twitched against the arm of her easy chair. “ _ ‘If they are never certain who you are or what you want, they cannot know what you are like to do next. _ ’”

She smiled at Clyde; as impish and sly as the Machiavellian villain who she’d quoted. The words didn’t sound as ridiculous as they should’ve slinking out of her pretty mouth.

There was a beat of silence, and then she winked, warbling one word in a low, garbled accent:

“ _ Sansaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh _ .”

After that, a few things happened all at once: Finn cringed, Rose guffawed, and Poe let out a bark of laughter so loud Clyde would’ve worried it’d shake the books off their shelves if he wasn’t busy beaming at Rey.  

“Oh my god,  _ Rey _ ,” Finn winced. “You’re such a  _ nerd _ .”  

“I’m missing somethin’,” said Jimmy.

“It’s from a boo— uh,  _ Game of Thrones _ ,” Clyde explained, chuckling. He couldn’t stop his grin from spanning the whole of his face, especially once Rey joined in the laughter.

Jimmy frowned.

“When’d you get HBO?”

“We share ours,” Mellie mused, still not bothering to look her brother in the eye. 

“Ridiculous television references aside,” said Finn, somehow looking far more embarrassed than Rey did, “Poe— ”

“ — and Littlefinger — ”

Finn rolled his eyes. “— are right. All of our plans work because we know how readily people want to categorize each of us. We use that.” His eyes flickered to Mellie, then to Jimmy, and then, finally, to Clyde.

“You already know people do that to you, too. So, in order for us to  _ not _ stand out, we’re going to do just that: stand out. Both Rose and I will pose as cybersecurity consultants on the FBI’s payroll, and we’ll use that to get close to Grayson. She may even guess you two are involved; if she does, even better.”

“How’s that better?” asked Mellie.

“Again, misdirection,” continued Rey. “She already suspects Clyde and Jimmy, but there’d be no hard evidence connecting them to the hack. She’d dig and find nothing. We already know she’s got some strange personal stake in pinning them, so her judgment isn’t exactly sound.”

“Plus, it’d give us an excuse to interact with you,” added Rose. “We could still stay in Boone, which’ll make it easier to meet. And Grayson will think we’re on her side.”

Jimmy nodded. 

“Solid,” his eyes tracked Poe, who kept eyeing Mellie, “What about you?”

Poe sighed, leaning back in his armchair.

“I’ll get some kind of delivery job. We’re nudging Phase 2 of the plan, which is still very much a work-in-progress — we need to successfully hack into CJIS first — but, we figure the good ol’ alphabet boys need to eat lunch, too. For now, I’ll settle into town as a migrant worker with a little sandwich shop gig on the side.”

“There’s a Subway in Meadowbrook Mall just down the street,” said Mellie. Finally, she glanced at Jimmy — only to turn back to Poe with a tiny smirk and an arched brow. “Bet you look good in yellow and green.”

Poe flashed perfect teeth. 

“All right, all right,” Jimmy groused, “That’s enough of that, Mels, you hear me? And you too.” He glared at Poe, but neither acknowledged him.

“To sum up,” Finn said pointedly, clasping hands together over his knees, “Rose and I’ll head back to D.C. tomorrow. We’ll need a few days to get situated. Then, once we’ve broken in, we’ll wait for the call.”

“Why a few days?” asked Clyde.

“The trip there and back,” said Rose. “And it’ll take time to set up a dummy trail, so when  _ we _ begin our investigation, we’re not tracking ourselves, but, well, you.”

“You, but not you,” reassured Finn.

Clyde considered it; surprised at how much he already trusted the members of the Resistance. He wouldn’t call himself shrewd about folks from the get-go, but given enough time, every bartender could spot someone’s tell. And to him, each of the Resistance crew seemed strangely genuine. 

Even if they were just in this for the money. After all, he couldn’t expect more than that.

His eyes flickered toward Rey, who gifted him a small smile.

“Now, Finn, don’t go casting needless doubt,” Poe said, mirroring Mellie’s smirk, “Besides, I’m sure the Logans have their own assurances. Names, faces. Recordings.”

The room stilled for a second, but then Jimmy just shrugged. Clyde didn’t look at Rey this time.

“Relax,” said Poe. The humor hadn’t left his eyes. “We get it. You asked for insurance and you got it. If it keeps you cozy at night, we don’t mind. Professionals, remember?”

Jimmy paused, then nodded. 

Another beat passed before Poe spoke again, this time turning toward Clyde — and Rey.

“So, you two settle on your love story?” Poe’s eyes still sparkled with laughter, but Clyde didn’t share in it. For what felt like the billionth time that day, his ears burned. 

“Yup,” said Rey, “Met in Iraq. I was one of his battalion’s assigned translators.”

“How good’s your Arabic?” Poe asked. Rey shrugged.

“Rusty, but decent enough. I’ll have been honorably discharged a few years back, but living in London till I reconnected with Clyde online.”

“And why’d you two end things?”

“Left,” rumbled Clyde. He raised his prosthetic arm in a sort of mock salute, then immediately regretted it — something uncomfortable prickled through the room at the movement, settling on the shoulders of everyone around him. The blush crept from his ears down his neck.

“Makes sense,” said Rose, moving past the moment of silence with considerable grace. A slow smile erupted on her tiny face. “Let’s just hope Grayson goes for the bait and focuses on you two. You’ll just have to sell it.”

Clyde didn’t miss Rey glare at her.

“We went over that already. We’re confident. Right, Clyde?”

He nodded. Any words he might’ve conjured stuck in his throat like syrup.

“Sounds good, then,” said Finn. “Rose and I’ll leave first thing in the morning, then send word when we’re ready to execute Phase 1. Poe, you’ll keep us posted on your status?”

“You betcha,” Poe replied. “I’ll have to move outta that motel, too, but I’ll find something suitable. I’ll send word once I’m secure.”

“That reminds me,” started Rose, rising from her seat and digging in her purse. She emerged with three old flip phones, handing one to Mellie, then Jimmy, and finally Clyde.

“Burner phones. For covert communication between the team only. Be sure you still text each other the way you’d normally do, though. We know Grayson’s cloned Clyde’s phone already, so we can’t afford to arouse her suspicion any more than we already have when it comes to tech.”

“What about those first texts you sent?” Clyde asked. 

“Apart from those disguised as Sprint spam, wiped after 3 hours,” Rose explained. “Trust me, if Grayson knew about those, she’d be on us already. Oh, and be sure you two text each other, too,” she smiled at Clyde, then Rey. “I already built a backlog of emails for you two in case she starts snooping into your relationship — which, we obviously hope she does — ” 

“We do?” Jimmy asked.

“Misdirection,  _ Jimbo _ , misdirection,” said Poe.

“ — exactly,” said Rose, “So make sure you don’t forget to keep the act going digitally as well as in public.”

“We get it, Rose,” Rey said, cutting her off. Clyde nodded, pocketing the phone so he wouldn’t have to look at anyone else.

“Should we set a tentative plan for our next meetup?” Mellie asked.

“A  _ fantastic _ idea,” agreed Poe, “Let’s say a week from today, same time, same place. Clyde, can you take care of that?”

Clyde nodded, then stood. To his surprise, Rey echoed him.

“Until next week, then,” said Poe cheekily as everyone followed suit. “And welcome to the Resistance.”  

 

— — —

“You told Sylvie yet?”

Rey and Mellie were waiting for him in the Impala, but he’d resolved to grab Jimmy’s ear before he spirited off to work. He’d be a bit late, especially having to take Mellie home first, but she refused to let Jimmy take her.

His brother balked at the question. Unlike Clyde, his ears didn’t get red when he was embarrassed. Nah, for once, Jimmy had it worse than Clyde. His blush painted his whole face, but he had the tact to look abashed.

“Not yet.”

Clyde let loose a sigh.

“After Mels, really, Jimmy? You oughta think about clueing her in. This affects her, too.”

“I know that,” grumbled Jimmy, fidgeting with his cap. “Just gotta figure what to say. You don’t get it.”

Clyde didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. Jimmy was right — he didn’t get it. He hadn’t had someone like Sylvie in, well. Ever.

His eyes meandered from Jimmy’s profile, sharp and shadowed in front of the setting sun, to where Rey was chatting with Mellie in the front seat of his car. 

“You know what this means, right?” 

“What?” Clyde asked, attention snapping back to his brother.

A soft smile unfurled across Jimmy’s face.

“With a girl like  _ that _ livin’ with you, you’re gonna have to drop all that talk about the Logan family curse.”

“Why?”

“Too lucky, Clyde. You’re too lucky.”

 

— — —

 

Rey tipped the bottle back, pleased by the sweet and tart taste on her lips. It’d be worth living so far from D.C.just for the Cheerwine.

They’d arrived at Duck Tape a little late, having to drop Mellie off at home before heading over, but since Clyde ran the place, it didn’t seem to matter much. His regulars just piled outside, dusty and parched in the late summer dusk.

It was strange for her, sitting and watching Clyde work — somehow relaxing and anxiety-inducing at the same time. Her eyes kept trailing the broad lines of his body as he bent down to open a new case of something or lean over to refill a drink; the tips of his lips turning up just slightly whenever he caught her eye. 

She couldn’t help smiling back.

Being a Sunday night, there weren’t too many people packed inside the little bar, so she had a seat all to herself at the tail end, just taking it all in ‘till Clyde made his way back over to her every few minutes. Each time he did, her fingers gripped the bottle a bit too tightly. 

Rey had worked her fair share of dangerous jobs, but she was starting to think this one was a new kind of dangerous. 

“Doin’ all right?” Clyde asked as he shuffled over. He hesitated, then leaned a little closer to her, though he kept his prosthetic behind the counter.

“You know it,” she said, raising her bottle and grinning. His full lips threatened another real smile, and a weird, bubbly feeling sprouted in Rey’s chest, making it difficult to breathe normally.

_ Jesus Christ, Rey. Remember! Just. A. Job. _

“Today seemed to go well,” Clyde murmured, leaning in even more. So no one would overhear them. And, for the illusion of intimacy.

Just the illusion.

“It did,” agreed Rey. “Though Jimmy looked ready to throttle Po — uh,  _ Kes _ .”

A muscle jumped in Clyde’s cheek; as if he’d held back a laugh.

“When it comes to Mels, we don’t mess around.”

Envy and appreciation warred inside of her, but neither burst the little bubble. She was starting to worry the damned thing wouldn’t go away. 

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” Clyde continued, “Mels is playin’. She ain’t interested in  _ Kes _ . Pretty sure he knows that, too.”

“You think?” Rey asked, grin widening. With each interaction with Clyde — and his siblings — she felt more and more certain about her initial impression of the Logans, even if it’d just been from a few files.

They were a hell of a lot sharper than anyone gave them credit for.

“Yup,” he said, “She’s got another guy. Pretty sure. She’s just tryin’ to bug Jimmy.”

“It seems to have worked.”

Clyde chuckled.

“You catch on quick.”

Rey shrugged, twirling her empty soda bottle between restless fingertips.

“We had a pretty good head start.” 

There it was — Clyde’s chuckle melted into a true smile, dimples and all, and Rey was pretty sure the bubble in her chest blew up to the size of a balloon in the span of three seconds.

“You want another—?”

A slow, shrill  _ creak _ wailed its way toward them. Rey whipped her head toward the sound.

A woman had just entered the bar.

_ Grayson. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still freaking out over today's new content so I got nothing. TODAY IS A GOOD DAY
> 
> Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear any feedback in a comment or feel free to share your thoughts on [Tumblr](http://rebelrebelreylo.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/rebelrebelreylo) @rebelrebelreylo.
> 
> Finally, if you're enjoying this story and want to get email notifications when it's updated, please feel free to hit that Subscribe button! Thanks again, everyone. :)


	9. Night Moves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He glanced at Rey. She was still smiling.
> 
> “Mr. Logan, are you asking your _girlfriend_ out on a date?”
> 
> Heat flushed his face, but he nodded anyway. 
> 
> “Another good idea,” returned Rey. “Let’s do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I am alive! Sorry for the delay as always, still juggling a few WIPS — my [samurai/arranged marriage fantasy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14815809/chapters/34283430) and a gift fic for the Reylo Writing Den Anniversary exchange, a [Breakfast Club AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18614290/chapters/44137612). So busy, but good busy!
> 
> I hope this chapter is worth the wait, though. I can honestly say I'm very excited about it because I feel it's a solid step toward romance for Rey and Clyde, and by my standards, extra long, too. Bless my beta for convincing me not to split it into two chapters! 😆
> 
> Speaking of, as always, a huge shout-out and thank you to my AMAZING beta and BFF, [LoveofEscapism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveofEscapism/pseuds/LoveofEscapism), for her amazingness; be sure to check out her work. ❤️ you!

“Clyde Logan.”

Grayson declared his name the same way a judge addressed a jury — blunt and boring.

As she strode over to the bar, her eyes zeroed in on Rey, who actually _smiled_ back. Clyde, meanwhile, couldn’t move.

Maybe that was a good thing. He stayed put, leaning against the shiny expanse of bartop while Rey swiveled toward the stiff suit sauntering toward them.

“You must be Rey,” remarked Grayson. She extended a hand, and Rey took it, still wearing that easy smile of hers.

Clyde managed not to grimace as the two shook. If he’d still had his left hand, it might’ve twitched.

“I am,” Rey returned, “And you are? You’ll have to forgive me; I’m pretty new to town. Clyde hasn’t had much chance to show me around yet.”

“Agent Sarah Grayson of the FBI.”

She said it like she expected a reaction, but Rey didn’t give her one. Instead, she tipped her head back to glance at him.

“I’d love another. Thanks, babe.”

She set her empty bottle on the counter with a soft _clatter_ , then stared Grayson down ‘til Clyde passed her a new one. After a long, slow pull, eyes cataloging Grayson’s stick-straight posture, she finally spoke.

“Cheers to that,” she mused, lowering the bottle from her lips before raising it in a small salute.

Grayson’s gaze flickered to Clyde before she looked back at Rey, forcing a smile.

“Glad to see your girlfriend is aware of your situation with my office, Mr. Logan,” Grayson said, “Not to be presumptuous, of course, Miss…? I didn’t catch your last name.”

“That’s because I didn’t give it,” Rey said. She still wore a grin, but this one made goosebumps sprout on Clyde’s skin. “But since you asked, it’s Jones. And don’t worry — you’re not being presumptuous.” She laughed, bright and loud. “Clyde and I are together.”

“Interesting,” Grayson said, thin eyebrows knitting together in what almost looked like — well. Constipation.

Clyde looked back at Rey, but she kept her mouth shut and her eyes on the woman in front of her.

“Is Mr. Logan what brought you to town, Miss Jones?”

“Of course.”

“And how’d you two meet?”

“Service,” she replied, taking another sip, “Years back. I was stationed with his unit in Iraq. I’m sure when you run a background check my entire military career will turn up. _Agent_.”

She said the title the way Poe would; like a punchline. Grayson flinched, and Clyde shifted from foot to foot.

“Will I find a temporary visa, too, Miss Jones?”

“You’ll find an O-1,” Rey said. “For my years in the Intelligence Corps. You know, Queen and country.”

She winked. Grayson pursed her lips.

“I’m sure I will. Assuming Mr. Logan here _has_ informed you of my pending investigation— ”

“I understand there’s an issue with the IRS, not the FBI,” Rey interrupted her, “Since your official investigation into the Speedway robbery was closed over a year ago.”

The sounds of clinking bottles and the soft twang of Jason Isbell took up space between both women, swelling over the silence. Clyde cleared his throat, then strode around the bar to stand next to Rey. He slipped his good arm around her, ignoring how she fit so snugly, even after she wrapped her own arm around his middle.

“Your timing is as impressive as ever, Mr. Logan,” Grayson commented, clearly trying to keep her tone light, “Though I’m not sure I’d reconnect with an old flame while under investigation. Tight…uh, timeline. Though, I’m not a man.” She tittered; a shaky, strange little laugh. All color seemed to seep from her face while she exhaled the sound. She lowered her voice. “Assuming that you’re really who you say you are, Miss Jones.”

Rey finally frowned. She squeezed him; a side-hug he felt in his toes, and he had no doubt his pulse would’ve aced any APFT.

“Well, you know what they say,” she started, licking her lips. “Timing is everything.”

She tilted her head his way, arching her neck, and he knew what he had to do — he could see the invitation, the _implication_ in her eyes, hazel and flecked with gold in Duck Tape’s dancing lights (why were they dancing? They’d never done that before), and he inhaled; but no, that was a mistake because now he could smell her as well as see her (she smelled like…summer), and goddamn Grayson was standing two feet away—

He bent his head an inch. He knew he managed that because he felt his forehead touch hers; he had to go by touch because his eyes were trapped. His eyes fell from hers to her lips (why was _that_ so easy?), pink and pretty, but he couldn’t make his head tilt any lower—

A disgruntled cough shook him awake, and he looked back toward Grayson as she spoke, curt and cold.

“Well. I’m sure I’ll see you around, Mr. Logan. Miss Jones.”

She turned on a perfect heel and pranced back out of the bar.

Rey slipped from his side. He opened his mouth to say something ( _anything_ ) but she meandered over to the jukebox, not sparing him a glance.

 

— — —  

 

“Ready to go?”

Clyde looked up from wiping down the bar for probably the hundredth time that night. The place had cleared out — if you didn’t count Earl out front (which nobody did).

After Grayson had left, Rey had come back to sit across from him, but their conversation had been stilted at best. She was good at the practiced smiles when any other patrons got close, but he could already tell the difference between those and the real ones.

He’d done something he shouldn’t have.

Or not something he _should’ve_.

He didn’t know which one, and he was afraid to ask. Better to let the strangeness of the evening settle and stream away into the midnight sky.

“Sure thing. Just gotta let Earl know we’re closin’ up.”

She nodded, then slipped off her stool. He watched her walk outside, wrapping arms around herself while she went, and he busied himself with locking the register and then the back office before following.

When he stepped outside, she was chuckling across from a smirking, smoking Earl; the mechanic’s eyes crinkling with humor underneath the fluorescent neon of _Duck Tape_.

“Too pretty to be with this one,” Earl muttered, jerking a thumb at Clyde.

Realization poured over him like a bucket of ice water. He’d been so worried about overstepping their clearly defined lines, he’d forgotten they were supposed to look like a real couple.

Maybe that was why Rey shied away, now. She was trying to help; he needed to stick to their agreement — even if it meant a little too much attachment on his end. A little too much hope.

He’d just have to deal with that part himself.

Clyde ignored Earl, sidling over to Rey. Hesitantly, he wrapped his good hand around her wrist, then lowered his head to her ear. He felt her still.

“Ready to go?”

She nodded, and he pulled her over to the Impala. Over his shoulder, he called back to Earl.

“Lock it up for me when you’re done?”

He didn’t wait for Earl’s grunt of agreement before opening the passenger door for Rey, letting her go so she could climb inside.

Earl might’ve called something else out to him, but he didn’t hear it — instead, he slid inside the Impala, rolled down his and Rey’s windows to the early morning dew, then drove carefully away. Towards home.

 

— — —

 

“Time for a Greek tragedy?”

Rose beamed at her boyfriend. He’d strolled in carrying the three things she needed: a drink, a snack, and a smile.

“You bet it is,” she replied as he took a seat next to her.

It’d taken a few days, but they’d found a good dummy spot to perform the initial hack — an Airbnb studio in Columbia Heights owned by a clean-cut Spanish professor at Georgetown. It was ideal: nondescript, close to the Metro, and armed with fantastic Wi-Fi.

Strictly speaking, with a masked IP, they didn’t _need_ to rent a place for the night to execute the program — but Rose preferred preventative measures. If the FBI somehow traced the virus she’d let loose on their infrastructure at CJIS back to D.C., it’d lead them to this Airbnb, and to the very fake couple who’d rented it — a solid dead end.

Plus, it still had a nice bed. She was all for a quick romantic getaway that involved hacks, snacks, and her boyfriend.

“What’s the game plan?” Finn asked before munching on a handful of popcorn. Rose stole a few kernels before pulling her laptop closer.

“Just like you said — send in the Trojans,” Rose said, beginning to build the email chain she’d send to CJIS’s staff, “the key with this crowd will need to be a multi-layered attack.”

“How so?”

“Well, we’re dealing with a slightly more tech-savvy crowd than we typically do. They’re highly trained _not_ to click on anything immediately suspicious, so we have to look legitimate _and_ like we’re just apart of the humdrum of everyday.” She fidgeted with her medallion. “I’m thinking password reset reminders. In a series. With that many employees, we’ll get a few who aren’t paying attention.”

“You just need one, right?”

“Right,” Rose confirmed, clacking away, “just one ill-advised click and we’re in.”

“What’re you gonna have the virus do?”

Rose shrugged, still typing.

“A little ransomware here, a couple of system crashes there…nothing major, just enough for them to call us in to assess any real security threats.” She paused, hands hovering over the keys. “I wonder…”

Finn paused, a handful of popcorn halfway to his mouth.

“What?”

Rose shook her head. If she got lucky — Grayson was cautious, but if she got _very_ lucky, and got the timing just right…

She started typing again.

“Just an idea. I’ll see what I can do.”

Finn chuckled, absently rubbing her shoulder.

“You’re the best there is, shortie. You got that malware magic.”

Rose gave him something between a grin and a mock-glare. The grin for the compliment, and the glare for the nickname that wouldn’t die.

After scheduling the program a short hour later, she forgave him, though. A few times.

 

— — —

 

Rey liked libraries. She liked the way the stacks seemed to hold secrets; things you could only find if you tried looking. And she liked how quiet they were — they didn’t just hide secrets in stories; they hid people, too.

She hadn’t hidden in a library in a long time, but after having Grayson tail her all week, well. Old habits.

Hiding wasn’t quite accurate, anyway. Rey wasn’t really hiding.

Not from Grayson, anyway.

Her mouth tasted like shame, so she swallowed, willing the sourness to settle in her stomach instead of her throat. Sighing, she peeked out from the bookshelf she’d ducked behind.

“She left.”

Rey jumped, dropping the book she’d been clutching. Behind her stood Amilyn Holdo, the librarian — a willowy, lavender-haired woman who exuded what could only be called _serenity_. Not a word Rey used often (or probably ever), but that was Amilyn.

She smiled at Rey, soft and supple.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” she murmured, bending down to pick up the book. She chuckled when she saw the title. “Carver, huh?”

Rey’s cheeks flamed. “Uh. Yeah.”

“Read a lot of poetry?”

“Sure,” Rey said, shrugging. “You said she left?”

“Yes,” Amilyn said, passing the book back. It was her turn to sigh. “You were right; she left earlier than usual today.”

“She’s getting bored,” Rey said, tucking the volume under her arm, “I honestly don’t blame her.”

“I don’t understand why she’s tailing _you_ and not Clyde,” Amilyn said, frowning.

“She’s jealous,” Rey blurted.

Amilyn arched a brow, and Rey pushed down her panic. It was a good thing to say. She’d spent the better part of the last week getting to know her, but Amilyn didn’t know that she and Clyde weren’t actually together; for all she knew, Rey really was Clyde’s old service sweetheart, come back to Boone County to settle down. And it had to stay that way.

They didn’t need to put anyone else at risk.

“Well, that much is obvious,” Amilyn said, ushering her out of the stacks, “but I don’t see why she’d set her sights on following you around for a whole week. I would’ve liked to ask her to leave, but— ”

“Oh, no, don’t worry about that,” Rey said, following her to the front desk, “it’s not like she was breaking any rules or disturbing anyone. Besides, you shouldn’t draw her attention any more than necessary.”

“You sound like you know a lot about this sort of thing,” Amilyn mused, circling the front desk until they stood across from each other. She kept her voice down — they’d both been whispering; it was a library, after all, and despite it being a Friday afternoon, there was a smattering of people around, tucked into armchairs or bent over books.

“I’ve seen a lot like her,” said Rey, voice flatlining into something more serious, something harder.

Amilyn tilted her head, bright teal earrings jangling as she did so. They contrasted nicely with her hair.

“Yes, I imagine you have.”

The panic rushed her again, but Rey held firm. She wasn’t used to lying to people like Amilyn, or spending so much time with them to do so — she was more thief than con, and the long ones were Poe’s specialty. She was the power player he brought in when he needed feet on the ground.

She didn’t like lying to people like Amilyn Holdo. And she didn’t like how much it felt like she _wasn’t_ , either.

“You and Clyde really are a good match,” Amilyn continued, voice even softer this time.

It took Rey a second too long to come up with the appropriate response, but once she managed it, she smiled back.

“Thanks.” She gulped, glancing down at her hands. Her knuckles looked white gripping the Carver book. “Anyway. I’m not sure how Agent Grayson could possibly think Clyde could be mixed up with anything dodgy.”

This time, it was Amilyn who paused. The silence stretched so long Rey looked up, meeting the woman’s bright blue eyes, but all she saw there was a flicker of amusement. And far too much understanding.

“Hmm,” she finally said, “Yes, well. People see what they want to about other people, don’t they?”

Rey nodded, careful not to tear her gaze away, much as she would’ve liked to.

Amilyn’s smile widened, blossoming like a flower across her face.

“I should’ve led with this, but I didn’t come looking for you just to tell you the agent left; I wanted to let you know that I spoke to my contact over at the County Commission, and you can start offering classes as early as next week if you like.”

Rey perked up.

“Really?”

“Absolutely,” said Amilyn, pearly whites still prominent, “with the number of migrant workers that have moved here over the last decade, there’s certainly a need. And the library has the space. I think you’ll do real good for the community, Rey.”

Rey couldn’t stop the smile this time, so she let it fill her own face.

“Thanks so much, Amilyn. For your help and everything else.”

“Of course— ”

_Buzzzzzzz._

“Sorry,” Rey apologized, pulling out her phone. It was her phone for Rey _Jones_ ; not her new burner or any of her others, and she’d forgotten to turn down the vibration.

 

 **_Clyde_ **  
See you in 5.

 

Her fingers ghosted over the book cover before she pushed it forward.

“Can I check this out?”

 

— — —

 

“What’d you get?”

Rey smiled at Clyde as she slid into the front seat of his Impala, flashing the book cover at him. He’d meant to meet her inside the library, but she’d already been waiting out front when he arrived, soaking up the sunshine.

“Raymond Carver,” he read aloud. His lips twitched. “You…”

“I decided to check him out,” she said, grinning, “I’ve never been big into poetry, but your interest intrigued me.”

“Ah.”

He didn’t know what else to say. He wasn’t sure why he even said that. Surprise and confusion and something else entirely stole his speech; he felt like that cartoon mermaid from Sadie’s favorite movie.

They’d spent so much of the last week sort of… _coexisting_ ; dancing around each other, so he kept getting more and more tongue-tied whenever they did spend time together. Rey had been holed up at the library during the days, and at night, she’d join him at the bar, nose buried in a book.

It’d been the plan. Rey figured she’d draw Grayson out while she worked on establishing her cover with Poe, and she’d been right. Today was the first day he hadn’t seen Grayson holed up in her rental, watching him like a hawk when he came to pick Rey up. He had to assume that she meant for them to see her; after all, it wasn’t like the FBI cared much about being covert.

“Clyde?”

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. He put the car in drive, then started toward home.

“I have good news,” Rey said. Clyde glanced over at her.

“Did Ms. Holdo get it fixed?”

Rey nodded, beaming.

“Yes. She said I could start offering classes early next week. She posted the sign-up sheet and everything, so I shot a text to _Kes_. He’ll spread the word at his new gig.”

“That’s real good,” he said, grinning, “Thank you, Rey.”

“This is a good cover,” she said, “it gives me a chance to integrate into the community and meet with Poe regularly. It was a great idea, Clyde.”

He cleared his throat.

“Lucky you really do speak Spanish,” he replied, “otherwise it wouldn’t’ve made much sense.”

Rey chuckled.

“I wouldn’t adopt a cover I couldn’t sell.”

The quiet of the afternoon threatened to tie his tongue again, so he gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and forced himself to keep talking.

“Y’know,” he started, “I’m not workin’ tonight. Maybe we should go celebrate the win. See the county. There’s actually a festival over in Madison. Start of summer sort of thing.”

He glanced at Rey. She was still smiling.

“Mr. Logan, are you asking your _girlfriend_ out on a date?”

Heat flushed his face, but he nodded anyway.

“Another good idea,” returned Rey. “Let’s do it.”

 

— — —

 

Clyde was nervous, and Rey was beautiful.

She’d put on one of those little flowery dresses Mellie liked to wear, but the effect on her was… well, _different._  He couldn’t seem to stop his eyes from trailing the exposed skin of her arms, and legs, and shoulders, and —

“Well, this is certainly something,” she said. He shook his head, swatting away the inappropriate thoughts like mosquitos in July. He followed her gaze upward.

**2018 WEST VIRGINIA COAL FESTIVAL**

The banner was big, spanning the entire entrance to the West Virginia Coal Museum; Madison’s primary tourist attraction. If they’d come earlier, they might’ve caught one of the day’s opening ceremonies, but the dawning dusk and creeping crowds meant they were definitely too late. Not that that was a bad thing. Watching Madison’s mayor drone on about the history of coal wasn’t Clyde’s idea of a good first date.

Not that this was a first date. It was…work. A different kind then bartending, but still work.

He could enjoy his work.  

“They put this on every year,” he rumbled, shuffling closer to her. “It’s sort of a big thing. Goes all week.”

“Now you mention it, I think I did hear a few people talking about it at the library. And the bar.” Her eyes swept the swarms of people ahead, and she stood on her tiptoes, trying to see how far the festival stretched down Main Street.   

“Need a boost?” he teased. She shot him a look that melted into another grin.

“Maybe.”

Damn West Virginia summer — his hand was sweaty. Guess it was good he only had one of them. As they walked forward into the fray, he swiped it across the front of his jeans when Rey wasn’t looking. Lucky he did, because a split-second later, she grabbed it, threading her fingers through his.

“This is _huge_. What all is there?”

His hand tightened around hers, and he shifted closer.

“Parades, speeches. Those were earlier, though. Carnival games, music, food. Those sorts of things.”

“There are festivals in D.C. all the time but they’re more neighborhood-specific; you don’t really see the whole city get taken over like this,” Rey mused, head swiveling in every direction. Being a Friday night, the whole county was practically there, reinforcing his decision to shut down the bar.

“Washington D.C.?” he asked.

She paused. The strum of a guitar wafted toward them from down the street where the stage was set up.

“Sounds like the first band is getting ready to start,” she said. He didn’t reply, and he didn’t move. He knew he shouldn’t, but here, holding her hand ( _she_ hadn’t let go), he felt like he had to wait.

For something. A tiny kernel of truth.

“Yeah. Washington, I mean,” she said, pulling him onward. He nodded, following her, surprised and pleased she’d answered.

He wished he knew what it meant.

“Rose mentioned that last week,” he said, “Her and Finn headin’ back that way. They didn’t say, but that where you and the others are based?”

She nodded, huddling in closer to him. Her bare arm brushed his, and despite the humidity, the familiar goosebumps prickled his skin.

“I didn’t always live in D.C., though,” she said, careful to keep her voice soft. Maybe that was why she’d leaned in closer. “When I came here, I moved all over for a while — mostly out West. A lot of deserts.”

“I’d never seen a desert till I joined the military,” he admitted. He let her lead them on, between people and past brightly-colored stalls bursting with different wares, from games to food to drink. He was happy to follow wherever she wanted to go — everything else was just white noise.

“They can be beautiful,” Rey said.

“They can,” he agreed, “lonely, though. Desolate.”

“Yeah,” she said, sounding rueful.

He hesitated, but then…

“Why?”

“Why what?” she asked, stilling in her step, looking up at him.

“Why’d you move all over?” he asked.

She looked back at her feet. Then she shrugged.

“Never really had a home. I was in the foster system until I was in my teens…” she paused, and this time, her grip tightened on him, “In Britain, I mean. Then I was placed with this guy. A bad guy. I got out. I came here.” She shrugged again. “I moved around a lot. Kept to where it was warm, but eventually, had to move East. I made it to Chicago, and that’s where I met Finn.”

Her grip softened, and a small smile — one tinged with relief — flooded her face.

“He helped me get citizenship, find work, everything else.”

Clyde exhaled slowly.

“And then you met Poe?”

“And then we met _Kes_ , yes,” she said, winking at him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. She started walking again, so he followed, unwilling to let her go ahead alone. “For…well, all of it. Rey.”

She stopped again, then turned to face him fully.

“Clyde, I— ”

“No,” he interrupted her, and he knew he wasn’t treating her the way he’d been taught to treat a lady, but he had to get this out before he lost his nerve. Before he lost— “Folks don’t… don’t usually tell me things. I know what it’s like to be, well. Alone. I got my family, but other than that, it’s just me, and I know what it feels like to feel like you… _lost_ somethin’. Somethin’ you never should’ve.” He groaned a little, raising his eyes to the sky to try and collect his spinning thoughts. “I guess I’m just tryin’ to say…I understand.”

It was her pressing a gentle hand to his arm that made him look back down. She started high, above where his prosthetic was, then let her fingers skim from skin to carbon-fiber.

He shivered.

“Thank you.”

 

— — —

 

“Well lookie who it is! Clyde Logan!”

Clyde sighed.

“Who…?” Rey asked, trying to peek around him to see who’d called out.

“Trust me, you don’t want— ”

Too late.

They’d made it close to where the first band had started playing the typical fair favorites: everything from John Denver to Dolly to Gary Clark Jr. for the kids, only to be bombarded by the Bang brothers, of all people. Strange, though, that it was just Sam and Fish — Clyde didn’t see Joe anywhere as they breezed over.

“This must be your new pretty lady the whole county’s talkin’ about!” Fish exclaimed, eyeing Rey up and down. Clyde glared at him, and he jumped back a step.

“Meanin’ no disrespect, Miss,” Sam interjected, tipping his ballcap to her.

“None taken,” Rey said, grinning, “You two must be the Bang brothers. Sam,” she nodded at him, “And Fish? Clyde’s mentioned you a few times. Nice to meet you.”

“And you, milady,” Fish said, bowing with a funny little flourish of his hands, “You sound like a Princess.”

“Oh, um, thanks?” Rey said.

“Joe not with you?” Clyde asked, eyes scanning the crowd.

“Uh, no, he uh…had somethin’ else goin’ on tonight,” Sam said, scratching his head. Clyde frowned when he didn’t meet his eyes.

“I know you’re here as Clyde’s girl and all, but everyone knows he don’t dance, and you look like you’re light on your feet,” Fish said, still talking to Rey. He’d gravitated closer to her again, like a planet orbiting the sun. He extended a hand. “I know a little Southern swing, myself.”

It took all of Clyde’s restraint not to bat the little man’s hand away. Instead, he wrapped his good one around Rey’s wrist.

“I dance. Let’s dance.”

She looked as surprised as he was with himself, but she nodded.

“I’d love to. Thanks — nice to meet you two!”

Clyde didn’t bother saying goodbye to the Bangs. He didn’t _drag_ Rey to where the rest of the crowd (mostly couples) were dancing, but he did pull her there faster than he probably should’ve.

Fish Bang sure had some guts. Clyde would just have to have more.

He _wasn’t_ a dancer. The most dancing he’d ever done had been bumbling, awkward… _swaying_ at his high school prom, too long-limbed and big to navigate his way around his date (who’d only said yes because he was Jimmy Logan’s kid brother, anyway). He doubted he’d gotten any better in the years since, especially considering he was down a limb.

So when Rey joined him on the dance floor, he froze.

The song playing ended, and his panic swelled with the crowd cheering, and Rey flashed him another grin, and the first few notes of the next song started—

_I was a little too tall…_

He smiled, and Rey laughed, high and bright, before she slipped her thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans, drawing herself close. This close, she seemed so _small_ in his shadow.

He let his hands — both of them — fall to her hips, and they started to sway.

They started slow, but the tempo was a good one — not too fast, but not a ballad either, and he got bolder: a spin here, a twirl there. It was all a silly attempt at swingin’, Southern or not, but he couldn’t help laughing along with her as the song played on.  

 

 _Strange how the night moves…_ _  
_ _With autumn closing in._

 

Clyde was only slightly short of breath when the band stopped playing. By some grace of God, Rey was still there, rosy-cheeked and still smiling, and he didn’t want to go anywhere.

 

 _If I should stay_ _  
_ _I would only be in your way…_

 

They both looked at their feet as the soft, sweet twang of a true ballad filtered through the air. Around them, other couples drew into each other, and Clyde swallowed hard, stepping closer.

“One more?”

Rey looked back up at him, and he was ready for her to say no, was ready for her to walk away—

She nodded.

His hands found her hips again, and her arms wound around his neck, and this time, their slow swaying felt a lot more like real dancing. He bent his head down to hers again, and she looked up at him with eyes that looked almost shy in the growing darkness.

“Why’d you do it?” she whispered.

He didn’t need to ask her what she meant.

“He asked me to.”

 

— — —

 

The ride home was quiet, but a comfortable quiet. Rey watched the night fly by outside her window. At one point, Clyde thought she’d fallen asleep — ‘til she turned back toward him, smiling again.

“That was… really nice, Clyde. You’re the perfect date.”

Seeming to hesitate, she brushed her knuckles against his shoulder, then his bicep.

Her hand fell away, and he’d never wished harder for his left hand back. If he still had it, he wouldn’t need to use his right to drive, and he could snag hers and keep it there. He contented himself with smiling back at her; a full smile, and she seemed to like that. It was dark, but her cheeks looked a little pink under the twilight sky.

Their companionable silence ended the minute he pulled into his drive.

Jimmy was sitting on the steps again, though this time, Sadie was with him. As Clyde and Rey climbed out of the Impala, Sadie sprinted to them, ignoring Rey in favor of nearly bowling Clyde over.

He grunted at the surprising impact of a twelve-year-old little girl that barely came up to his belly button. She must’ve had a touch of her daddy’s scrambling skills. Better yet, she’d make a decent running back.   

“What’s goin’ on?” Clyde asked. Jimmy didn’t walk over; instead, he paced across Clyde’s porch, ashen-faced and anxiety shadowing every step. Clyde pried Sadie from around his middle, then scooped her up with his good arm and hauled her over to her Jimmy. She giggled in his grip.

“It’s…uh…shit. It’s, uh, Sylvie. Can Sadie spend the night?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any guesses as to which tag will be added next chapter? 👀👀👀 Let me know your guesses in a comment!
> 
> Some notes: if you're unfamiliar with the songs in this chapter, the first is Bob Seger's "Night Moves," and the second is Dolly Parton's "I Will Always Love You," and yes, I am now obsessed with Dolly Parton. Both songs are on a MASSIVE [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1PmHFGoUVscP3g7UOlFwhs) I made for this fic, which has no real order, rhyme or reason behind it, so just press shuffle if you decide to check it out. 😆 And another big thank you to MidnightBlueFox for suggesting "Night Moves" for this chapter! Oh, and the Boone County Coal Festival is REAL. And starting in a few short weeks. Check out more info, [here](https://www.facebook.com/WV-Coal-Festival-Inc-191752220860654/).
> 
> And of course, THANK YOU for reading! I'd love to hear any feedback in a comment or feel free to share your thoughts on [Tumblr](http://rebelrebelreylo.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/rebelrebelreylo) @rebelrebelreylo.
> 
> Finally, if you're enjoying this story and want to get email notifications when it's updated, please feel free to hit that Subscribe button! Thanks again, everyone. 😊


	10. Jolene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “One sec, jitterbug. Gimme a minute to grab you some new sheets. You and Rey wave bye, yeah?”
> 
> Something exploded in Rey’s stomach.
> 
> Sadie was spending the night. In her room. In her bed.
> 
> Rey looked for Clyde again, but he’d already retreated inside — probably to move her stuff out of Sadie’s room. And into...his?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the bed-sharing commence. 👀
> 
> Thank you to my beta, [LoveofEscapism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveofEscapism/pseuds/LoveofEscapism), for her amazingness; be sure to check out her work. ❤️
> 
> P.S. I also made a video for this fic mixing elements from last chapter and this one, check it out by clicking the preview image below:
> 
>  
> 
> [](https://twitter.com/rebelrebelreylo/status/1152943045815492610)  
> 
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you enjoy the update!

_Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Joleeeeeeeene_ _  
_ _I'm begging of you please don't take my man—_

 

“Will you turn that off?”

Barbara, Sarah Grayson’s insipid desk mate, shot her an affronted look.

“Sure thing, sugar,” Barbara said, pudgy face slipping into a strained smile. She reached forward to silence the little radio sitting on her desk. 

Grayson would’ve expected a facility as massive as CJIS to have more space for visiting agents, but no — she was stuck next to Barbara, a receptionist who made that slug monster in Space Battles (or whatever it was called; Grayson hadn’t seen it since she was a kid, and even then, one of her older brothers had forced it on her) seem speedy. 

Grayson hunched back over her laptop, ignoring the shooting pain scorching her lower back all the way up to the base of her skull. She’d been at this too long; if her neck wasn’t saying so, the pounding behind her eyes was.

It didn’t matter how long she stared at the screen; the words on it didn’t change. 

 

 _Issuing Post Name_ _  
_ _LONDON_

 _Surname_  
_JACKSON_

 _Given Name_ _  
_ _REY_

 _Visa Type /Class_ _  
_ _O1_

 

A scan of her military ID was on file, too, along with her service record. Grayson wasn’t sure which she hated more — the black and white photos of Rey smarming up at her or her exhaustive list of achievements. And she was barely twenty-five. 

Had they met under different circumstances, Grayson would’ve wanted to take her out for a drink.

She started to frown, then stopped herself. Breathed in through her nose, loudly (ignoring the sideways glance from Barbara). 

Rey Jackson was a wrinkle in the plan, but Grayson was good at smoothing those out.

 

— — —

 

Come Monday, Grayson felt refreshed. She woke up early, grabbed a halfway decent cup of coffee (not so easy to find a Starbucks in _Hicksville_ , but Clarksburg had one, thank goodness), and made the short drive back to Boone.

When her deduction proved correct and Rey Jackson walked into the Boone-Madison Public Library, she smiled. 

Rey caught sight of her — this early, they were the only two people there apart from the hippie librarian — and waved. Actually _waved_.

Grayson glared back.

 

— — —

 

By Friday, she’d had enough. 

She didn’t show it, of course. She walked calmly but briskly to her car parked outside of the library, content to leave Rey Jackson to her reading, or whatever she was doing to pass the time in this backwater town.

Grayson abhorred when people lost their composure over something as silly as frustration. That being said, anyone watching Rey Jackson for the last week would understand — it was so mind-numbingly boring that _anyone_ would lose their patience. 

Not to mention a colossal waste of time.

Despite the exasperation fuzzing her brain, she couldn’t help the prickle of uncertainty crawling up her spine as she got into her rental car and sped back to her hotel room.

She’d thought Rey Jackson was the key to kicking Clyde Logan back into a cell. Where he _belonged_. The way he looked at her…

She gripped the steering wheel harder, then made an abrupt U-turn. Back to Boone. There was one more thing she could try.

 

— — — 

 

They didn’t even glance at her. 

Sure, it helped that she’d changed into civilian clothing to blend in with the crowd at the coal festival — something as nondescript as she could manage; more difficult than you’d think, considering she doubted anyone in Boone County even knew who Ralph Lauren _was_ — but even so. They couldn’t take their eyes off of each other. 

Grayson sipped at her watered-down sweet tea. Endless bodies milled past her, but for once, she didn’t mind. She was too busy watching them.

Whatever doubts she’d had about their relationship vanished as soon as the song changed.

 

 _We both know that I'm not_ _  
_ _What you need…_

 

Grayson was good at spotting weaknesses, and Rey Jackson was most definitely one of Clyde Logan’s. The only question left was how to use her.

 

— — —

 

Surprise washed over Clyde, and he glanced back at Rey. She looked just as taken aback.

“Wouldn’t do this,” Jimmy continued, removing his hat and ringing it in his hands, “but I gotta talk to Sylvie and Bobbie Jo and Moody are outta town again and I can’t get ahold a Mels, and…” He trailed off, looking more like a lost puppy than the father of a pre-teen. 

“Don’t know why I gotta leave _my_ house so you can talk to _Sylvia_ ,” Sadie pouted, rolling her eyes. Jimmy shot her a disappointed look.

“Now Sadie, darlin’, we talked ‘bout this— ”

“Doesn’t matter, Daddy,” Sadie interrupted him, “Uncle Clyde’s is more fun anyway. Uncle Clyde, who’s that?” 

Sadie’s head swiveled toward Rey so fast Clyde had to blink away the blur. Rey gave the little girl a tentative smile.

“This is, uh, Rey. My girlfriend,” he answered.

Sadie’s eyes widened, but then her mouth split into a toothy grin (minus one in the bottom front). She wiggled out of Clyde’s grip, bouncing over to Rey.

“Nice to meetcha. Do you like having a boy’s name?” Her elfin face crinkled with the curiosity only kids had; completely genuine and guileless.

“I do,” Rey replied, a bemused smile gracing her lips. 

“Hey, kid,” Clyde tugged gently at one of Sadie’s pigtails, “why don’t you go show Rey the fairy circle you found while I talk to your daddy?”

Sadie beamed even brighter. 

“Trust me, you gotta see this,” Sadie said, pulling Rey by the wrist deeper into the surrounding woods, towards the lake.

As soon as both girls were out of earshot, Clyde turned back to Jimmy.

“Sit.” He gestured toward the porch swing.

Sighing, Jimmy obeyed, sinking into the seat, the old wood groaning with him. His face found his hands.

“Need a beer?” Clyde asked. 

Jimmy nodded, not speaking. By the time Clyde returned with two cold ones — Jimmy’s in his good hand and his wedged between his side and bicep — he was staring out into the hazy summer night.

Clyde held out Jimmy’s bottle. He took it, then downed half the thing in one gulp while Clyde situated himself across from him, leaning back against the porch railing.

“What’s going on?” 

Jimmy’s eyes focused on him, and he looked… _lost_. 

Not a sight Clyde was used to seeing. Or — the realization curdled his gut — one he liked.

“I told her.”

Clyde’s beer _thunked_ against the top of the railing.

“You didn’t think I would,” Jimmy guessed, narrowing his eyes.

“I really didn’t,” Clyde admitted. 

“Well, I did,” Jimmy huffed. 

“How bad is it?” The question dripped with enough anxiety Clyde was surprised it hadn’t puddled at his feet. Bringing people in was always a risk, but Sylvie —

“There’s more.”

Clyde’s good hand dug into the wood of railing; if he wasn’t careful, he’d get a splinter.

“She’s pregnant,” Jimmy continued. A nervous hand scrubbed his face, fidgeted with his scruff. “Nearly twelve weeks, now. She, uh, wanted to be sure.”

Clyde said nothing. He’d learned he didn’t need to. Better to let Jimmy let it out first. 

“Y’know I was fixin’ to ask her to marry me anyway,” Jimmy continued, “and…I want more kids.” His gaze drifted, seeking the faraway giggles from his firstborn.

“Congratulations, then,” Clyde murmured. “This is a real good thing, Jimmy. Real good.”

Jimmy met his eyes. If Clyde hadn’t been prepared to see him looking lost, he sure as hell wasn’t ready to see his big brother’s eyes all misty. 

“Yeah, yeah, it is,” Jimmy chuckled wetly around his words, “I haven’t told Sadie yet. Obviously. I need more time with Sylvie. We gotta talk about…everythin’.”

“She can stay. ‘Course she can,” Clyde supplied. “Long as you need.”

“Tonight’s fine,” Jimmy said. “Bobby Jo gets back day after tomorrow, and I...I don’t want her to think anythin’s wrong. Once Sylvie and I talk, we’ll tell her together.”

Clyde studied his brother’s face; pleased to see resolve covering the anxiety he knew lurked underneath. “ _Peace_ ,” their daddy used to say, “ _peace before panic, boys._ ” 

He’d said it a lot when their momma was sick. 

Clyde wished he’d listened to him sooner in life. If he had, he mighta still had his left hand.

 

— — —

 

“This is it,” Sadie whispered. She jabbed a long stick she’d found at a circular clump of flowers dusting the earth. Overhead, an ancient oak fluttered green fingers in the lazy breeze; waving to the water it watched over like a sentinel.

“Ah!” Rey half-whispered, half-exclaimed. She sat down, carefully folding her legs so as not to disturb the circle. “I see what you mean. Unmistakable signs of fairy activity.”

“Yup,” Sadie agreed, setting down her stick and popping a squat next to her. “My fairy book says not that many live here. But there are lots of fairies over in England and Ireland. Did you see any when you lived there?”

“I didn’t, but I had friends who did,” Rey said, leaning closer to Sadie — like they were sharing a secret. “But I never got to live in the country. Always the city. And fairies like the green.” She glanced up at the branches overhead, still swaying. “So maybe there are more here than we think.”

Sadie raised her head, too, wearing a thoughtful expression.

“That’s true,” she said decisively. Next minute she bolted up, extending a hand down to Rey. “Let’s go get the fairies a bowl of milk; I read they like that.”

Rey grinned, then accepted her help, pushing herself off the ground with her free hand. 

Thankfully, it looked like Jimmy was on his way; as Sadie dragged Rey back toward the house, he was meandering down the porch steps to his truck. 

“C’mere, baby girl. Big hug before I go.”

Sadie dropped Rey’s hand as she launched herself at her father, and Rey took the opportunity to sidestep them both. Clyde stood on the porch. His eyes flickered to hers. Something seemed to flash in them; like lightning across an amber sky.

His lips twitched, and Rey’s smile slipped from her face. 

“Alright now, you be good or I’ll hear ‘bout it from Uncle Clyde. Bed soon, too. Be back in the mornin’.”

“Okay. Night, Daddy.” Sadie slid free from her father’s arms, then took the steps to the front door two at a time. Clyde caught her shoulder before she could amble inside.

“One sec, jitterbug. Gimme a minute to grab you some new sheets. You and Rey wave bye, yeah?”

Something exploded in Rey’s stomach. 

Sadie was spending the night. 

Sadie was spending the night. In her room. In her bed. And she thought... 

Rey looked for Clyde again, but he’d already retreated inside — probably to move her stuff out of Sadie’s room. And into...his?

“Bye!”

Rey spun back around to see Jimmy wink at her, then disappear into his truck. Sadie waved until his lights dissolved into the darkness.

By then, Clyde came back. And he looked nervous.

Rey rubbed her palms on her skirt; they felt clammy, even though they were awash in the stickiness of a Southern summer. Maybe she was nervous, too.

“You girls ready?”

 

— — —

 

After Sadie ran a bowl outside, Clyde made her a tall glass of chocolate milk; the good kind, according to her, with a mix of the powder _and_ the syrup. He offered Rey a glass, but she declined. Too much writhing in her insides already.

By the time Clyde finally got Sadie to agree to go to bed, Rey’s heart was doing gymnastics in her chest. She couldn’t remember ever being so nervous on a job. Hell, she’d never been this nervous on a _date_. Not that she’d been on many of those.

She waited for Clyde on the couch; listening to the soft rumble that was his voice filtering down the hallway from her — _Sadie’s_ room. Maybe he was telling her a bedtime story. 

Heavy footsteps shuffling her way, then —

He was standing in the doorway to the living room. Staring.

The explosion in Rey’s gut simmered, lower and lower, and she tightened her crossed legs. Her whole body somehow felt…stiff and loose at the same time.

“Hey.” Rey surprised herself by speaking. Softly, tentatively. Where’d that come from?

Clyde teetered back and forth a little on his feet, almost like he wasn’t sure if he could come closer. In his own home. 

The same shame she’d tasted earlier that day left a tang on her tongue; nearly bubbling into words — an apology, but for what, she didn’t know — but he beat her to it.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. He ran his right hand through his long hair, not meeting her eyes. 

Rey didn’t know how to respond, because she wasn’t sure _she_ was sorry. And that was a problem. 

But she had to say something. 

“Don’t be,” she managed. She stood, untangling her limbs with a little trouble. “I’m assuming Jimmy told Sylvia?”

His eyes caught her, pinning her in place. He nodded. 

“She’s pregnant.”

 A beat passed. Rey fingered the hem of her skirt again.

“Oh,” she exhaled, “So. They have a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah,” Clyde confirmed, “I think it’ll be fine, though. Sylvie’s a good girl. They’ll work…all of it out. I’m sure o’ that.”

It was Rey’s turn to nod.

“...Sadie’s a sweetheart.”

You couldn’t call the sound that escaped Clyde’s lips a _chuckle_ ; not really, but it was close enough. More like a rasping breath with a hint of humor.

“She’s somethin’,” he added, “Sweet, yes. Rambunctious, too.”

Rey felt her lips curl up. 

“Yes, she is,” she agreed.

Quiet settled over them, but instead of being awkward or uncomfortable, it was just stifling. Pinched; like being stuck in a room running out of air.

“She likes you.” 

The words tumbled out of him, and Rey thought of the boulder barreling after Indiana Jones. A smile burst through, then, despite her best efforts to keep it at bay.

“I like her, too.”

Clyde shuffled from foot-to-foot again. Pushed his hand into his jeans pocket. Then, without warning, he rocketed over to her so fast she froze, sucking in a deep breath.

“I really am sorry,” he whispered. He looked pained just saying the words; the sincerity was etched onto his face, shadowing every line, every crease.

Rey dragged in a breath, eyes darting all over his face. She had to crane her neck to really look at him this close, but she didn’t mind. 

Same problem.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” she said, “That’s Sadie’s room, not mine. I’m just a guest.”

His eye twitched. 

“Yeah. Yeah,” he muttered, “well. I can sleep out here, on the couch. You can have my room.”

He said the words like he was Princess Leia begging Obi-Wan to help her father, but they both knew the offer was a hollow one. Rey shook her head.

“Can’t,” she said, keeping her voice as soft as his, “Sadie wakes up and sees you…” she trailed off. “It’s okay, Clyde. Really.”

He said nothing, so she kept talking, painting a prim smile on her face. 

“We went over this. I’m fine. And...” she faltered, looking at her feet. Anything for a reprieve from those endless eyes of his. “If you’re not; if you’re uncomfortable, I can just sleep on the floor— ”

“No.”

She looked back up at him. He was _scowling_. 

Considering Clyde’s size, she might’ve expected a look like that to seem scary. On most men, it would be. But it wasn’t — and not just because she could tell it wasn’t directed _at_ her, not really. It was…situational and somehow still so _soft_. Like a teddy bear frowning. 

She laughed. It felt like a break in a dam; all the tension between them didn’t melt away, but it eased a little, and when Clyde smiled a little back, she felt like she’d won something. 

“No?” she asked, sniggering.   

“No,” he repeated, sounding as serious as death. His hand wrapped around her wrist and her laughter faded. “S’not how you treat a lady. Besides, Mellie’d have my head if I let you do that and she found out.” His thumb circled her pulse point. “C’mon, then. We’ll share.”

He led her back to his bedroom, still holding her wrist. The simmering heat low in her stomach blazed brighter again, flames licking at her heart. She swallowed as he nudged the door open with his prosthetic.

He dropped her wrist once they were inside, shutting the door behind them with a soft _snap_. 

His bedroom wasn’t massive, but it housed all the essentials — bed, nightstand, dresser, closet. He’d turned the lamp on earlier when he’d moved her things in; they stood stacked neatly next to his dresser.

“So Sadie wouldn’t see and think…” He finished the thought by scrubbing the back of his head, tousling his hair again. He seemed to be trying to look anywhere but at the bed, which of course made Rey zero in on it.

Thankfully, Clyde’s size meant he’d put in the effort of forcing a king-sized mattress through the bedroom door. The bed and the other furniture took up most of the floor space.

“It’s really nice,” Rey said, clutching her skirt again, “just like the rest of your house. Thank you again for letting me crash here.” She nodded toward her things. “Can I…I’ll just go change in the bathroom if you’re ready to turn in?”

“Sure, sure,” he agreed. He backed away from her, then sat on the bed. Stiffly. As always, he held his prosthetic just slightly behind his back.

Rey swiped her sleep clothes from her duffel, then slipped out of the room.

She took as long as she could — changing, washing her face, brushing her teeth. But, eventually, she had nothing else left to do. 

When she returned, Clyde was already in bed. From what she could tell, he’d changed into a different t-shirt, but he’d pulled the covers practically up to his neck, so she couldn’t be certain. His body looked tight and tense, huddling and hulking under the blankets. He’d turned his back to her.  

Her eyes drifted to the dresser. His prosthetic arm sat atop it, and understanding walloped her where she stood. She swallowed again, reaching for the resolve she knew she had somewhere, then joined him under the covers.

“Okay to turn off the light?” he asked. His voice sounded muffled, like he was pressing his mouth to the blankets.

“Sure,” she agreed.

He did. The _click_ of the lamp string seemed to reverberate into Rey’s skull.

“Goodnight, Clyde,” she whispered. He paused, and then—

“Goodnight, Rey.”

 

— — —

 

The next morning, Rey woke up alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To quote Luke...
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> What do you think? I hate to end it there, but we've got a lot in store for next chapter! If I'd put it all in this you'd have like 7-10k to read and I couldn't do that to you all, haha. Also, I know Clyde called his mom "mommy" in the movie but I couldn't do it, guys. So Momma must suffice.
> 
> (Continuing the Dolly obsession in this chapter, feel free to check out the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1PmHFGoUVscP3g7UOlFwhs) for this fic.
> 
> THANK YOU for reading! I'd love to hear any feedback in a comment or feel free to share your thoughts on [Tumblr](http://rebelrebelreylo.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/rebelrebelreylo) @rebelrebelreylo.
> 
> Finally, if you're enjoying this story and want to get email notifications when it's updated, please feel free to hit that Subscribe button! Thanks again, everyone. 😊
> 
> (Side note, I have some other WIPs if you're interested, hence why it takes a bit between updates: a [samurai/arranged marriage fantasy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14815809/chapters/34283430) and a gift fic for the Reylo Writing Den Anniversary exchange, a [Breakfast Club AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18614290/chapters/44137612). Happy Reyloing!)


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